


Longbottom Lives

by SemperFidelis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperFidelis/pseuds/SemperFidelis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice Longbottom had lived in St Mungos for a very long time with little hope of ever leaving, but one day things start to change. A short story extending post-Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alice Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story which starts about a year after Harry, Hermione and Ron saw Neville at St Mungo’s during OOTP. Only one of the healers is in the book (Miriam Strout the older healer mentioned in this chapter) The younger healer is an OC from another of my FF – A Prince Among Men (blatant self-promotion!) - but you don’t need to read it for this story to make sense.
> 
> Quick note on the meaning of the title – it is “lives” as in the plural of life, not as third person singular from the verb “to live”

A tall handsome woman, with sleek black hair and dark but heavily lidded eyes shot curse after curse at Alice. The woman spoke in a coaxing voice “You can make it stop, Alice, just tell me everything you know about the Order of the Phoenix. Who are they? Where do they meet? How can I find them?” 

Her tone changed, became aggressive and with each phrase she threw another curse at Alice. “Tell me and the pain will stop! Tell me and it will all be over! Tell me so I can please My Lord, for I am his most loyal servant. TELL ME!!” Alice felt her body stiffen and arch in pain, every muscle contracted to a hard ball. She only had to speak, she only had to say a few words and it would end. She could go to her baby - to Neville. The pain eased off and Alice slumped to the ground, limp and unmoving. Even through her pain she wondered why the woman didn’t use Veritaserum to find the answers to her questions - that is what an auror would do. The woman was circling around Alice’s inert body, her fanaticism clear on her features and to Alice’s horror she also saw enjoyment in the woman’s face. With absolute certainty Alice knew that whatever she said, it would not be enough, the woman was not interested in the answers to her questions but only in the power she had to cause agony. Alice vowed she would not speak to this woman and she would keep her baby safe. This devil woman and her Dark Lord would never discover where he was. The woman must have seen the resolution in Alice for she screamed in frustration and fired the strongest Cruciatus Curse she was capable of creating. It hit Alice on the chest and she felt as if her body were burning in the flames of hell, she felt as if she were being cut by a thousand knives, she had no voice left to scream with and she would never, never betray her baby to the Dark Lord. As the devil woman slowly traced the curse over Alice she saw a blankness come into Alice’s eyes and knew she would get no more fun from this one.

\--oOo--

At the far end of the ward on the fourth floor of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Alice haltingly swung her legs off the bed she had been laying on and walked sedately and purposefully towards the window. She moved the curtain that was obscuring her view from the bed, looked through the glass and stared at the rendered wall of the building opposite. Once, (how long ago she couldn’t be certain because time here blurred into units she couldn’t measure), the wall had been blank, a dirty white canvas waiting to be brought to life with colour and action, but now it was alive. A moving picture was projected onto the wall turning it from a dead space to a vibrant living thing. Today it was a seascape. Alice stood still and watched the waves crashing on the sandy beach, the white foam soaking into the sand and the water being sucked away to return to the sea. The silent action was hypnotic and stirred within her some memories of the sounds and smells that should go with the image on the wall.

Alice turned her body with care and fixed her attention on the man in the bed next to hers. Like her, his hair had turned prematurely grey. Like her, his face was thin and worn but the difference was in the eyes. His were often vacant and stared into a distance that no one else could see. The only time a light shone in them was when he looked at Alice or at a round faced boy who visited regularly. Alice was drawn to the man, bound to him in a way that felt natural and right, he made her feel safe and he shared her nightmares. She alternated her attention between the man and the image of the sea on the wall. 

Slowly and unbidden a memory stirred in a hidden part of her mind. A man and a woman walking side by side in the surf, the water swirling softly over their feet. She could hear the sound of the waves breaking gently on the shore, the salty tang of the sea stung her lips. She could feel the rough sand over her bare feet; when she stood still the sand was washed away from underneath and her feet slowly sank, if she wriggled her toes she sank more quickly. She remembered a strong hand reaching out and pulling her gently but firmly from the grip of the sand, her feet came loose with a soft rasping sound. The water and sand rushed back in to fill the space she had made as if she had never stood there. The memory hit her like a fist and she said aloud, “Frank.”

The man in the bed reacted to the sound of his name and looked up. It was the first time in 14 years that he had heard his name spoken from the mouth of his wife. 

A motherly looking healer in lime green robes rushed over from the other end of the ward and asked, “Alice, dear, did you speak?”

Alice slowly walked the few steps to the bed, she reached out and gripped the man’s hand. “Frank.” she repeated.

The healer gasped and smiled broadly saying, “Yes Alice, this is Frank.”

Frank’s face took on a tender expression and he returned the pressure of Alice’s hold on his hand. The couple remained motionless, momentarily lost in a world that contained only two people.

The healer left and returned with a colleague, a younger woman with light brown hair and green eyes. The older healer explained in a hushed whisper that Alice had spoken. “That’s the first change we’ve seen in her since you were here last year,” she said excitedly.

Keeping hold of Frank’s hand, Alice looked out of the window and back to Frank.

The younger healer observed her actions and how Alice watched the play of the beach scene on the wall opposite. She pointed it out to her colleague saying, “Miriam, whose ever idea it was to use that wall for displaying art has done a good service today.” She paused before continuing, “I’ve often said that the occupants of this ward need stimulation and activity to help them heal. You can’t keep them sedated and wrapped in cotton wool no matter how well meaning. You must let them confront their nightmares and fears and you need to be ready to guide them through the process - that is the way to help them heal.”

“It is a cruel muggle way,” replied Miriam, “You know that Alice and Frank have nightmares which were inflicted by repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse - nightmares that would terrify any one. It is a kindness to make them forget.”

“But not by the use of sedative potions, memory charms and imprisoning them in this room,” the younger healer protested.

“They are not imprisoned!” exclaimed Miriam. “How would they cope outside of these walls, on their own? We care for them; we protect them; we keep them away from prying eyes and people who would take advantage.”

“I know, Miriam I know that you wizard healers do these things out of compassion,” came the placating reply, “But there must be a way to reach them and make them the people they once were.”

“They will never be the people they once were,” Miriam said sadly, “They showed incredible strength to even survive the torture they were subjected to. They are war heroes, they deserve our admiration.”

The words of the healers flowed over and around Alice, the sounds of their voices made patterns in her brain but they were absorbed with the other noises in her mind like the foam of the surf as it returned to sea, indistinguishable from the ocean from which they had been formed. The older healer was a stable fixture in Alice’s existence, like Frank and the old woman and boy who came to visit. Miriam had always been here in this room with them whilst the younger healers came and went like mayflies, flitting about for a short time and touching nothing except their own lives. But not this current one, she was different - she gave off an aura of confidence and capability. 

Every night Alice and Frank were given a potion to drink and the younger healer gave Alice hers tonight. Alice thought the potion did not taste the same as usual but she drank it obediently as she always did. That night she dreamed a terrifying dream of pain and humiliation. A dark haired woman with the wild eyes of a fanatic pointed a wand at Alice and a flame of shot out of it piercing Alice with an unbearable pain. A scream forced its way out of her from deep inside, a cry of unendurable agony. At the edges of her vision she could see three other people cheering on the mad-eyed woman and far in the corner of the room was the figure of man thrown into the corner like a rag doll making a vain attempt to move and screaming for the woman to stop. One of the cheering men kicked the rag doll man viscously in the head and the only screams Alice could hear now were her own.

She woke herself up with the sound of her own screaming and she saw the anxious face and the worried eyes of the healer beside her bed quietly saying her name. “Alice, Alice you were dreaming. You can wake now.”

Alice woke with a start and scrambled to the head of the bed. The healer stood away, increasing the distance between them. Alice glanced over at Frank who was sound asleep. She looked up at the healer and she saw from the way the young woman was standing slightly in profile that she was quite clearly pregnant. The light from the bedside lamp shone into a pair of green eyes and Alice was reminded of someone. “Lily?” she asked.

“No,” said the healer “I’m not Lily. Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Pain,” whispered Alice her voice hoarse from screaming and rusty from long disuse. “And her – the devil’s woman!” She nodded and pointed to Frank saying, “Frank, he was there. The devil’s woman said “I’ve broken him. Now I will break you.” Alice’s face filled with fear and she spoke in a cracked voice, “She broke me too.”

“Yes, Alice,” replied the healer, “but broken things can be mended. Do you want to be mended?”

Alice’s face took on the look of hunted animal and she sank down onto the bed, pulled the covers over her and curled into a ball, her thin body shaking but the healer heard the word “yes” quietly spoken from beneath the protection of the bedsheets.

With the security of the bed covers over her head Alice lay still and remembered another pregnant young woman with green eyes and who was called Lily. She recalled sitting with Lily at a long oak table in a kitchen with no windows, they both had the chairs pushed out from the table to accommodate the large bellies they had sticking out in front of them - bellies that each contained a baby boy, babies that had been born just one day apart. Alice placed her hands on her belly – it was flat and soft - there was no baby in there anymore. She smiled as she remembered that her baby was somewhere safe, she had protected him.

When Alice got out of bed the next day she noticed that someone had left a pile of plain white paper, some paints, brushes and colouring pencils on a table near the window. Today the picture projected onto the wall opposite was a pastoral scene – green rolling hills, dotted with white sheep, a slow moving river cutting a soft valley through the hills and snaking along the flat valley base. Alice contemplated the scene, absorbing the calmness. The nightmares from the previous night faded. She picked up a pot of green paint and poured some of it over a blank piece of paper. The paint formed a pool on the paper and stopped moving when its surface tension could hold it in position, using her hands she disturbed the puddle and smeared it around until the white paper had turned green. She slid another sheet of paper towards her and in doing so she saw that she had made a hand print on its pristine surface. She studied the imprint, turned to look at Frank and then with great deliberation placed another handprint next to the one already there. She stared at the image she had made as if something was missing. She reached out for a paintbrush, dunked it into the pot of green paint and daubed five green blobs, resembling a tiny version of the handprints she had just made. She studied the image that she had just created for several long minutes. She grabbed it from the table, violently tore into pieces, screwed the pieces into a ball and threw it against the wall with a loud sob.

She heard the healers walk towards her, speaking as they came. “Shall we leave the art materials Miriam? It seems to have had an effect.”

“Yes. Do so. You are right about there being little in the way of stimulation in here for our long term residents. Perhaps there is something in the muggle ways you describe. We have always tried to keep them calm and supress the memories of the trauma they have experienced.”

“And that may yet be the best way to look after them, but I believe we should try other treatments.”

Alice noticed that her hands were covered in green paint and held them up beseechingly to the healers. The older healer spoke to her colleague, “I’ll deal with this. You go off shift now and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Turning to Alice she said, “Come with me to the bathroom, we’ll soon clean you up.”

In the bathroom Alice washed her hands. As she rinsed them under the running tap the green tinged water swirled down the plug like a minute cyclone full of dust but becoming clearer and clearer, until once again it had regained its transparency. Her hands were clean again and her mind was still cloudy but for the first time in a long time there were breaks in the clouds.

Some days later, after Alice had eaten breakfast, the younger healer spoke to her. “You will have visitors later today, Alice. Augusta and Neville are coming.” Alice looked at her blankly but the healer carried on “Would you like to wear robes today, instead of your nightdress?”

Alice fingered the neck of her nightdress, which peeked out from under her dressing gown. Robes? She couldn’t remember ever wearing robes. All the residents of the ward only wore nightclothes - it had not occurred to her that she didn’t have to. “Come,” said the healer, “I’ve put some on your bed, and,” she added, “I have some for Frank too.”

Alice followed the healer to her bed. Frank was already wearing his robes which were dark grey. He was standing by his bed beaming with joy and admiring himself in a mirror which had been brought into the ward for this purpose. At once Alice wanted to wear robes too. The healer drew a pair of flowery curtains around the two beds and left Alice to change in privacy. Alice took off her dressing gown and pulled the nightdress over her head. On the bed was a set of lavender coloured robes. She picked them up, they were soft to the touch and smelt of open air and sunshine - something she hadn’t smelled for a very long time, except for faints wafts of air on summer days when the windows were opened. She lifted the robes over her head and put her arms into the sleeves. The robe fell in gentle folds from her shoulders and she felt a tender tug as someone smoothed and straightened out the pleats at the back in an action that was both startlingly familiar yet half forgotten. A pair of hands settled on her shoulders and she leant back into the comfort of an embrace. She looked at the reflection in the mirror. Frank was standing behind her and it was his arms around her. She met his eyes in the mirror and they stood there, lavender against dark grey. For an instant she saw a flicker of memory in Frank’s eyes, his hands dropped to his side, he stepped back and resumed the vacant smile he wore so readily. Alice felt emptiness and loss but then the feeling was gone and she saw only her own reflection in the mirror.

The voice of the healer came through the curtains, “Are you dressed now Alice? May I come in?” Alice nodded but of course the healer couldn’t see her. Most of the healers didn’t bother to ask but just came in unannounced. “Alice?” repeated the healer. 

“Yes,” Alice said aloud.

The curtain opened and the healer came in. “You look lovely,” she said, “but shall we do something with your hair? I’ve already brushed Frank’s hair.”

Alice looked at Frank who was now sitting erect on the chair by his bed as if he didn’t want to crease his nice new clothes. His hair was brushed backwards from the front hairline. He still had a thick head of hair, with no sign on baldness. Alice touched her own hair, it felt thin and wiry but it hadn’t always been like that. The healer was holding a hairbrush, Alice gestured at her hand and the healer passed the brush to her. Alice shook her head stiffly. “Wand” she ordered. The healer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but she handed across her own wand to Alice without comment.

Alice took the wand and examined it. It was a grey colour and intricately decorated. It had been a long time since Alice had held a wand and she realised she missed the feel of it. With sudden clarity she remembered that her own wand had looked nothing like this one. She took a breath, pointed the wand at her hair and said, “capillum constituo”. Her hair slowly filled out and wound itself into an intricate bun at the back of her head. It no longer looked thin or wiry and, despite her hair being almost pure white, the neat arrangement made her look younger than she had for years.

“Now take a look in the mirror,” the healer suggested and addressed Frank saying, “Frank, doesn’t your wife look beautiful?”

In response to the question Frank looked at Alice and something changed in his expression, a flicker of memory flashed across his face and he got out of his chair and crossed the few steps to where Alice was looking at herself in the mirror. He touched the bun at the back of her head; she turned to face him and he said clearly “Alice, such beautiful hair.” He pulled her into an embrace; Alice laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around him and they stood like that for several minutes. The healer felt tears sting her eyes as she observed a rare demonstration of the love the two had for one another and proof that it had not been destroyed despite the torture they had endured.

The moment was broken by the sound of the door to the ward being opened and an authoritative voice announcing she had come to visit Frank and Alice Longbottom. The healer unobtrusively took her wand back from Alice and moved the mirror as Alice and Frank stood apart. Two people entered the area walking past the curtains which were still drawn around the beds; one was a formidable-looking old witch wearing long green robes and a pointed hat which was decorated with a stuffed vulture, accompanying her was a boy of around 15 years old, starting to grow into his adult body but still showing signs of puppy fat especially in his round face. 

“Augusta. Neville” said the healer cheerfully, “It’s nice to see you. Shall I leave the curtains closed?”

Augusta didn’t reply, she was staring at Frank and Alice and said in astonishment, “They’ve got dressed!”

Alice heard the woman speak, slowly the words registered and she glanced down at her robe, it was lavender, such a pretty colour. Usually she was dressed in a white nightdress, she remembered some words about the robes; she remembered a pair of arms holding her and someone saying something about visitors. The old woman looked familiar, Alice had seen her before, she recognised the hat - it had wings. Once Alice could fly, she tilted her head slightly to one side and thought about flying. Her hair would stream out behind her, she put her hand to hair to keep it from blowing about in the wind. The old woman mistook the gesture and said, “Your hair is very nice, Alice. So is yours, Frank.” She turned to her young companion, “Don’t you agree, Neville?”

“Yes, Gran,” mumbled the boy, “Very nice.”

Alice’s attention turned to the boy. He was familiar too. Wait! She had something for him. She crossed over to the drawer by her bed and opened it. Inside was a packet of Droobles Best Blowing Gum. Alice didn’t like Blowing Gum but the wrapper was brightly coloured. She remembered a baby that loved to play with the wrappers. He would hold the wrapper in one of his chubby hands and pass it from one hand to the other, his face beaming in a smile at the crinkling sound of the wrapper. Sometimes when the sun shone in through the window it would reflect on the shiny paper causing it to glitter in his hands. The baby would give a little squeal of excitement and shake the paper up and down making the little sparkles move erratically. Alice remembered the stars from a wand being added to the patterns and a man laughing as another wrapper flew into the air and hovered in front of the baby’s face twinkling and twisting in the air just out of his reach. The man picked up the baby and playfully spun him around saying “This is my boy, my baby boy who will reach the stars and make his parents proud.” 

Alice knew that you shouldn’t give blowing gum to babies – they could choke on it. She unwrapped the gum and went back to the boy and handed him the wrapper. “Thanks Mum,” he whispered.

Alice sat on the end of her bed and the old witch, who the boy called Gran, began to speak. She spoke about the plans that she and Neville (that was the boy’s name!) had for the Christmas holiday. The woman spoke as if she had to fill the space with words even if they had no meaning, as though she feared what the silence meant, as though she feared that Alice and Frank could never again fill a silence with words. 

Alice didn’t want to hear Gran talk any longer and she abruptly stood up from the bed and walked towards the mirror. She beckoned to the boy, Neville, to come over. He crossed the small space and stood next to her, she looked frail and thin in comparison to his well filled out, slightly chubby frame. Alice turned to see her husband and said “Frank.” 

Neville stiffened in shock, “Mum!” he said at the same time as his grandmother exclaimed “Alice!”

Frank ambled over from the chair he had been sitting on since the visitors arrived and stood next to Alice and Neville. The three of them stared at their reflections in the mirror and Augusta went to join them. Alice pointed at the image in the mirror saying, “Frank. Neville. Gran. Alice.” Augusta and Neville remained stock-still with the glint of tears shining in their eyes and saw one mirror, one reflection, three generations, one family.


	2. Augusta Aware

Augusta Longbottom approached a large, old fashioned, red-brick department store in London called Purge & Dowse. All the doors were locked shut and signs were stuck on the building which read “Closed for Refurbishment”. The refurbishment was clearly a long time in the planning for the building had been untouched for years - the shop window dummies dressed in their out of date fashions a testament to this fact. The muggles went by without a second glance, the presence of the building slipping from their minds as soon as they had gone passed. 

Augusta stopped in front of a particularly ugly female dummy with its eyelashes falling off and wearing a green nylon pinafore dress, “I’m here to see Frank and Alice Longbottom” she said softly. The dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned with its finger and Augusta stepped through the glass. It felt as if she were walking through a sheet of warm water, she had done this so many times before that she had lost count but the experience had never lost its novelty. She emerged into a reception area and with the familiarity of a regular visitor she nodded greetings to the staff and made her way to the fourth floor of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. 

She had been visiting the ward for permanent spell damage for almost 15 years and had expected to do so for many more years but just before Christmas there had been a change and now she had something she had not had for 15 years – she had hope. 

When she arrived at the ward she rang the visitor’s bell at the door and was let in by the younger healer who was pregnant. “Hello Augusta,” she said as she opened the door. “No Neville today?”

“School term has just started so I can’t bring him with me every time I visit for the next few weeks,” explained Augusta and she made her way to the end of the ward where her son and daughter-in-law had resided for the past decade and a half. Previously when she had arrived, Alice and Frank would either be lying in their beds or sitting on the chairs next to them like permanent fixtures. The healers would bring to their attention that visitors were here before they would slowly understand that they should move. Today, however, Augusta saw Alice and Frank sitting at a table that was covered in artist’s materials – paper, paint and pencils. They hadn’t yet noticed her and were busy making patterns on the paper. She saw Frank bent over his paper, holding a pencil in his hands and tracing an outline with great care and deliberation, just as he used to do when he was a boy. Augusta recalled how she would reprimand him for making a mess on the table and he would reply cheekily that he was making a mess for her and would present her with a poorly drawn picture. 

Augusta walked the length of the ward and as she got closer Alice noticed her and said to Frank “Augusta is here.”

Frank stopped his work and said “Mother.” He picked up the paper he had been drawing on and gave it to her “For you” he said.

Augusta took the proffered picture and looked at it. His drawing skills had never been good and this was no exception but to Augusta it was worth more than any masterpiece by an eminent painter. It showed a family of stick-men and women together in a brightly coloured house, a yellow sun was in the corner of the picture and the sky was painted blue above green grass dotted with lavender flowers. Augusta looked at some of the other paintings on the table. There was a sheet of paper with angry black lines painted haphazardly over it; many sheets with splodges of colour interspersed with dark patches; other intricately drawn patterns neatly coloured in. One drawing had been torn in half and thrown the floor. Augusta picked it up and joined the pieces together. It showed a tiny stick man in the corner of the page and a giant stick woman standing over him her teeth bared and flashes of dark colour coming from her wand. 

Alice said, “Leave that one on the floor. We don’t like it.”

Augusta threw it back onto the floor, willing to do anything her daughter-in-law asked. It had been too long since she had asked Augusta for anything. Years of silence had been broken just before Christmas when Augusta heard Alice say the word “Frank” and she knew who the name belonged to. Since then Alice had spoken many times and Frank was regaining his voice too. Each word they said was music to Augusta’s ears.

Alice looked behind Augusta as if she was searching for something. “Where’s Neville?” she finally asked.

“He’s back at school. At Hogwarts,” Augusta replied gently. 

“School? Hogwarts?” echoed Alice. “He’s too young to be at school. He’s only a baby.”

Augusta face fell in sadness, Alice may have found her voice but she had yet to understand the passage of time. “No, he’s almost grown now, Alice. He is fifteen years old.”

“Oh,” said Alice. “Fifteen.” She smiled guilelessly at Augusta. “Frank and I were fifteen when we first met. It was at a school ball. I didn’t go to Hogwarts did I?” she asked uncertainly.

“No, Alice. You were privately educated at home because your father travelled a lot and your mother didn’t like to be on her own.”

“Oh yes. Mother. I remember her. Where is she?” asked Alice looking behind Augusta again to see if her mother was behind her.

“She can’t come to see you, Alice she’s not well herself.” Augusta said by way of explanation. It was not true, Alice’s mother was in perfect health but she refused to see her daughter or to acknowledge her grandson. 

Alice’s mother was a beautiful but lazy and self-centred woman. She had married a wealthy man much older than she was and told him she would bear him only one child. She had resented being pregnant, for it ruined her body. The baby had been a girl, not the boy her husband had wanted. As the child grew up it soon became clear that she had not inherited her mother’s good looks. So Alice’s childhood was one of neglect. She was always well fed and dressed and her parents spent money on the best tutors but they showed no affection for their only child. 

She had, indeed, met Frank at a school ball but it was not at Hogwarts, it was at Beauxbatons. Alice’s father had business with the school and, in the interest of demonstrating he was a family man, he had brought along his wife and daughter to the social event he was expected to attend. His wife had been in her element, wearing the newest French fashions and glowing in the admiring comments she received. She told Alice not to bother her unless she was called and so Alice tried to hide in the shadows. Frank had been visiting his French exchange student and was also at the ball. He soon noticed the only other English person of his own age and before long they were conversing and dancing as if they had known each other for years. 

When Frank and Alice had married a few years’ later, Alice’s parents came to the wedding because it was expected of them. When her father died within two years of her marriage, Alice was informed. Upon his death he left his widow very well provided for. Alice had wanted to share her joy of the birth of her own son, Neville, with her surviving parent but her mother was not interested. She was too busy spending her way through her late husband’s fortune and did not want to be reminded that she was a grandmother.  
After Alice and Frank’s admittance to St Mungo’s following Bellatrix Lestrange’s torture of them, and the long term nature of their injuries, Alice’s mother cut off all association with her daughter and wanted nothing to do with her grandson. Augusta and her husband willingly took in their only grandson and brought him up in the best way they could, Augusta considered it was Alice’s mother’s loss that she could not love or appreciate the brave, loyal and intelligent woman she had given birth to or find any compassion in her selfish heart for a child who was all-but orphaned.

Alice and Frank had returned to making patterns on the paper and were engrossed in the task. Augusta crossed quietly behind them to look out the window. On the wall opposite was a scene of a sandy desert. Crescent shaped dunes, with undulating wave like patterns on the surface. The image zoomed in on a lizard twisting its way erratically up the slope with two pairs of tiny footprints in its wake, showing the path it had taken but the traces soon blown away by the wind as if it had never set foot on the ground. The healers had told her that it was seeing one of these projected images that had first prompted Alice to speak. The younger healer, who was muggle-born, had explained that muggles thought that stimulation through the senses was a method of treatment which often produced good results. It would seem she was correct. The calm and unvarying routine since they were put into St Mungo’s had done nothing for them so far. 

Although, now Augusta thought about it, the last time Alice showed improvement was last year when the younger healer had come to the ward for the first time. She remembered the day clearly. She and Neville had arrived in the morning and Alice had been the same as ever but when Augusta and Neville returned from lunch, Alice had stared and stared at Neville and Augusta in a way she had never done before; it was as if she recognised them and some connections were being made in her brain. Neville had whispered “Mum”. Alice put her hand on his face and examined his face minutely looking between him and Frank. Tears had come into Neville’s eyes and dripped down his face. Alice wiped them off with her sleeve and she took a sweet wrapper from her pocket and gave it to Neville. He had accepted it as if was the most valuable thing he’d ever been given.

One of the senior healers had been called to see the changes. He said although it was rare, sudden spontaneous improvements could occur but it was still unlikely that Alice ever get any better. He said it would have been a kindness if she’d stayed as she was, when she had no awareness of the quality of her life. Augusta disagreed, Alice had finally recognised that her son was important. Since that day Alice had handed Neville so many sweet wrappers he could paper his wall with them.

Augusta folded the drawing Frank had given to her and put it in her handbag. Later she would add it to the collection she had of drawings he had done as a child and those Neville had drawn for her and his parents as he grew up, which she treasured as only a mother can. Once she had despaired of ever being able to share Neville’s scribblings with Alice and Frank but now she truly hoped that the day was coming when she could. 

She heard Alice call to her. “Augusta, come and draw something with us.”

Augusta’s artistic skills were no better than her son’s were but she sat down at the table and selected some paper and pencils and began to draw. The three worked in a silence which Augusta felt no need to break. Her companions were concentrating on their work with genuine interest and that was all the conversation she needed.

When Augusta was gone, the healer, Miriam Strout, picked up the drawings thrown to the floor and also some from the table. She would give them to the Alice and Frank’s counsellor for their next session. When Frank and Alice had first been admitted to St Mungo’s their physical injuries had been tended to but if any one tried to talk to them about their experiences, the pair of them closed down and refused to communicate. After a while the healers stopped trying because of the distress to the patients, but, with the benefit of hindsight, Miriam now suspected that Frank and Alice’s continued silence became more of a habit than it was a defence and a reluctance to face what had happened to them. 

Counselling had recently been introduced into the treatment of Frank and Alice after the effects of the murals on the wall and the paints had been shown to be beneficial. It was another lesson learned from the way muggles treat traumatised patients. Miriam had always been guided by the advice from her senior colleagues and head of department that the wizard way of calm and routine was the best they could ever do for patients like Frank and Alice. Now she wished that someone had thought to investigate muggle ways years ago and she included herself in that failure to remove the blinkered view that the wizard ways were the best.

A few weeks later the younger healer came to say goodbye to the Longbottom family because she was about to go on maternity leave. Alice bid her farewell with a vague understanding that she wouldn’t see her for a while, this woman who reminded her of Lily. “Where is Lily?” she asked.

“Lily is dead,” the healer replied sadly.

“Her baby. Where is her baby?” Alice asked in distress.

“He’s almost a young man now” the healer said, “He’s at Hogwarts.”

“You’ve heard Neville mention him haven’t you Alice?” Augusta interjected, “His friend Harry Potter.”

“Harry - yes that was his name,” Alice said thoughtfully. “Lily kept him safe, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she kept him safe. She gave her life to protect him,” the healer said.

Alice clutched at the healer’s arm and looked at her with intensity. “The woman, that devil’s woman, she wanted to hurt my baby. I wouldn’t tell her where he was no matter what she did to me. I kept Neville safe.”

The healer covered Alice’s hand with her own and she and Augusta finally understood how Alice had endured the torture. “Yes Alice, you kept him safe. He knows he has a very courageous mother,” Augusta said softly.

Alice removed her hand from the healer’s hold and placed it on her pregnant belly. “You’ll keep your baby safe.”

“I will,” whispered the healer. “Now,” she continued brightly, “Shall I bring it in after it’s born. Would you like to see my baby?”

“Oh yes,” replied Alice, her attention wandered and she moved away to see what Frank was doing. 

The healer followed her, “Goodbye Alice. Goodbye Frank,” she said, “I’ll be back in a few months.”

“Goodbye” Alice said off-handedly as she helped Frank to sort out the paints into colour order.

The next time Augusta came to visit her son and daughter-in-law she asked Miriam, “How are they doing?” as the healer opened the door for her.

“Better, I’d say” she replied, “go on down.”

Both Alice and Frank were dressed, a copy of Witch Weekly was spread over the table with the paint pots. To Augusta’s surprise they were looking intently at its contents. “Augusta,” said Alice cheerfully, “come and see.”

Augusta disapproved of the frivolous nature of Witch Weekly and would not give it house room but she made no comment and sat down at the table to see what had interested Alice. The magazine was open at a page about interior decorating and showed a room over decorated (in Augusta’s view) with frills and trimmings in soft pastel colours. The soft furnishings were flouncy and floral, lacy curtains at the window and an intricate pattern on the wallpaper. The room was dressed with bucolic ornaments, dried flowers and a large, elaborately framed oval mirror above the fireplace. The style was not at all to Augusta’s taste and neither, she thought, to Alice’s. “Would you like a room decorated like that?” she asked in an attempt to get Alice to give an opinion.

“No,” said Alice immediately, she stabbed her finger on the overstuffed sofa, “but look – it’s Jess!”

Augusta fumbled in her bag to find her reading spectacles, put them on and peered at the photograph. Sitting on the sofa, almost hidden in the folds and the twee pattern was a small brown and white dog, its ears perked up and head cocked slightly to one side as if listening to something out of sight.

“Jess,” murmured Augusta softly.

Jess was the name of a brown and white Jack Russell terrier puppy that Alice and Frank had bought shortly before Alice discovered she was pregnant with Neville. Ever soft hearted, Frank and Alice had not wanted to give the dog away just because they were having a baby. Fortunately Jess turned out to be an even tempered dog who was protective, not jealous, of the new arrival.

When Augusta and her husband had taken in their grandson after Frank and Alice were admitted to St Mungo’s, they decided that Neville had lost so much it would be unkind to take away the dog too and so Jess came to live with them. As Neville grew up the dog was his constant companion. She tolerated his uneven handling of her when he was a toddler. Neville’s first steps were made trying to run after Jess and Augusta had known full well that he would throw the food he didn’t like to Jess – there were seldom any scraps on the floor around Neville.

Dog and boy grew up together and Jess was faithful to her young master. She had accompanied him and Augusta on his first day at infant school and waited outside the school until he emerged at the end of the day. Nothing Augusta could say on that first day persuaded her to stop her vigil. After a few days Jess must have known that Neville was safe at school and she returned home willingly with Augusta. When it was time to collect Neville from school, Jess would seek out Augusta and run between her and the door to make sure that she was on time. Neville was never left to wait on his own outside the school. 

As they grew older Neville and Jess would be gone for hours in the countryside pretending they were explorers and come home dirty, exhausted but happy. Unfortunately a dog ages faster than a boy and by the time he was 11 years old Neville would often return from one of their adventures carrying the dog asleep in his arms.

When Neville’s grandfather had died, it was Jess who gave the boy the comfort he needed whilst Augusta was steeped in her own grief for the loss of her husband. Neville spoke to Jess with words he could not say to his grandmother and as she eavesdropped on his one sided conversation her heart broke some more for her boy who had loved and confided in his beloved grandfather in a way he could never do with her. 

Neville’s admittance to Hogwarts meant he had to leave Jess at home, dogs were not on the list of pets permitted at school. When Neville was 8 and had shown his first sign of magical ability, Neville’s great uncle Algie had given a toad, whom Neville named Trevor, but it was no substitute in his affections for Jess. She was so much more than a faithful canine companion, she was a living link to his parents; something they had chosen to include in their lives and something they were fond of. 

These days Jess still lived with Augusta, having reached an advanced age for a dog. She spent much of her time resting in the corner of whichever room Augusta was working in. Her coat was now speckled with grey, especially around her muzzle, her eyes had clouded over and her movements were slow and careful. Augusta often found herself talking to Jess (although she would never have admitted it to anyone) and she feared the day when she would finally be alone in her own house. When Neville came home, Jess would light up, struggle to her feet and rush as fast as she could to greet him. Neville would pat her gently and lovingly before taking her for a short, slow walk.

“Look it’s Jess” repeated Alice.

It occurred to Augusta that there was one more service that Jess could do for the Longbottom family to add to the long list of debts they already owed the faithful dog. Augusta spoke to healer Strout about her idea. She was amenable to the suggestion, provided that her superior, the head of department was in agreement. “Leave that to me,” Augusta told her with a glint of determination in her eye and Miriam felt certain that the request would be granted.

A few days later Augusta walked into the spell damage ward accompanied by a very old brown and white dog. 

“The head of department agreed then,” said Miriam, with a slight smile playing around her lips. 

“Oh yes,” replied Augusta airily. “At first he objected to the idea of animals being brought into the hospital – he said they were dirty, unhygienic and against hospital policy. But I persuaded him to make an exception.” Miriam knew how persuasive the older woman could be and almost felt sorry for the head of department.

As Augusta and Jess walked slowly down the ward towards Alice and Frank’s beds, Miriam noticed instantly the other patients take notice of the new visitor. Gilderoy Lockhart sat up straight and told her a story about a time when he had removed a thorn from the paw of a wolf. Gilderoy continued the story saying that at a later date he was surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves but one of them was the wolf he had helped and it prevented the other wolves from attacking him. Miriam was never sure which of Gilderoy’s stories were true and which ones he had made up, nevertheless this was one she hadn’t heard before and took it as a good sign as a further improvement to his memory.

Augusta and Jess reached the end of the ward where Frank and Alice were dressed and seated together on a sofa that had recently been brought into the ward. “Frank, Alice, good morning,” Augusta said cheerily, “I have a special visitor for you.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at the small dog standing on the floor. Augusta undid the lead around Jess’s neck which she had been obliged to put on the dog as condition of bringing her in, although a lead was hardly necessary on such an old and well behaved dog. Jess remained by Augusta’s side her rheumy eyes seeing little but vague shapes. Her sense of smell was as sharp as ever and she sniffed the air trying to make sense of the new and strange scents that surrounded her. The smell of Augusta was strong and comforting but other long-forgotten yet strangely familiar scents were coming through, cutting across the medicinal and sharp aromas of the ward. It was a scent like, and also, unlike Neville, as if his unique scent had been split into its component parts. Jess took a cautious step forward in the direction the smell was coming from.

Alice and Frank watched the dog walk towards them. “It’s a dog,” commented Frank.

“Yes,” said Augusta, “this is Jess.”

“But Jess is a puppy” said Alice, still watching the dog as it sniffed the air.

“Jess has grown much older since you last saw her, Alice.” Augusta said patiently, “Like Neville who isn’t a baby anymore and neither is Jess. She is very old for a dog.”

Alice held out her hand as Jess got closer until she could touch the dog’s head. It was soft and warm, she moved her touch to caress the dog’s ears which felt like smooth velvet. The dog nuzzled into her sniffing and remembering the smell of this human that she hadn’t smelt for years, except second hand from Neville and Augusta.

Frank had been watching his wife and dog become re-acquainted and he suddenly commanded in a sharp voice, “Jess, play dead!”

Jess slowly sank to the ground and stiffly rolled over onto her back and lay unmoving with her legs in the air. Alice knelt down on the ground beside her and gently stroked the dog’s belly saying, “good dog; good dog.”

Frank spoke again, “Jess – stand up!” 

Slowly the dog turned over and struggled to her feet, Alice continued to stroke the dog. Playing dead was not a trick that Neville had ever taught the dog, and Augusta had never seen her do it. Surely it was something that pre-dated Neville’s arrival at Augusta’s house and that Augusta was amazed that both Frank and Jess could still remember it after all these years. Frank ordered Jess to play dead several more times in quick succession and Augusta could see the dog was tired but still struggled to obey.

“Frank,” she said, “Jess is getting tired now, you must let her rest and stop asking her to play dead.”

Frank was immediately contrite, he understood about being tired by doing too much and left Jess to lie on the floor where he joined her and Alice and they stroked and petted the dog until she fell asleep.

Augusta brought Jess to visit several more time and on each occasion Frank or Alice would recount a different tale about Jess as a puppy and a young dog. They told about the months before Neville was born when she would leap around the house like a bouncy ball; how she once chewed up one of Frank’s dirty socks which she had taken from the laundry pile; how, when Alice was big with her pregnancy, Jess would calmly sit with her on the sofa and snuggle up with her head resting on Alice’s belly; how she would be startled when the baby moved inside. After Neville was born, Jess would sit by his cot or pram and growl at anyone or anything which dared to come close if Frank or Alice weren’t on hand. How she was the best dog that anyone could have included in their household. The telling of these stories improved their vocabulary and sharpened their minds, reminding and teaching them that not all memories were bad.

One day, in the spring, when Augusta and Neville had both come to visit along with Jess, Alice said they should take Jess for a walk. St Mungo’s hospital had several courtyards included in its design for the purpose of patients being able to go outside and benefit from fresh air and to escape from the confinement of a ward. Frank and Alice were taken outside from time to time when someone remembered but this was the first occasion they had ever asked to go. They were both already dressed so Augusta and Neville accompanied them to the nearest courtyard. The courtyard was a grassed central area with a paved foot path around the outside, several benches were sited at various points and many of them were occupied by other patients enjoying the sunny weather.

“Jess likes the woods best,” said Alice. Augusta cast a charm to produce an image of a copse in the centre of the yard, the sunlight appearing to shine through the leaf canopy and form a dappled pattern on the grass. The image was for effect only, Jess could not see it and in her world of smells although the grass on the ground was tangible, the forms of the trees was not. Alice did not understand this but smiled with pleasure that Jess could have a romp in the forest. Jess wandered slowly over the grass, frequently stopping to sniff at something which captured her interest, Alice seemed oblivious to the odd sight of Jess walking straight through the trees as if they were ghosts, which they surely were to the dog. Alice was holding the dog’s lead, which they were required to use, she reached out for Frank’s hand and together they walked around the courtyard. Augusta and Neville followed their footsteps and firmly ignored the stares of the patients sitting around the edges of the courtyard, they wanted to enjoy the moment and believe that there may many more to come, and one day the forest would be real and the grass would be outside the confines of the hospital.

One day, towards the end of May, Augusta came alone, Jess has passed away peacefully in her sleep. As she explained the situation, Augusta was overcome by sadness, she could not stop the tears from filling her eyes and she began to sob. Alice put her arms around Augusta and held her as she would to comfort a child, “Don’t cry Augusta,” she said tenderly “I know all livings things must die one day. Jess had a good life so don’t be sad.” But her words only made Augusta cry the harder but now the sorrow was mixed with the certainty that Alice was getting better.

A couple of weeks later the wizard world was buzzing with the news of the death of Albus Dumbledore, but the Longbottom family grieved more for the loss of their dog than the death of the man. The man under whose command Frank and Alice had been serving when they were injured and who had never come to visit in all the long years since.

True to her word, the younger healer visited the ward with her baby, a boy, when he was about 3 months old. Alice was delighted to see the baby, the healer showed no sign of nervousness for her child when Alice wanted to hold him and she confidently handed him over to Alice. 

Alice held him securely and began to coo over the baby speaking in the baby talk that adults often adopt. “Hello,” she said in a light and airy voice, “you’re a lovely boy aren’t you? With your big dark eyes and your thick black hair. But,” and she lowered her voices to a whisper, “you’re not as adorable as my Neville was when he was a baby.” If the child’s mother had overheard the comment she made no outward sign of acknowledgement, not even a secret smile. Alice said aloud, “Is he sleeping through night yet?”

“He manages about five hours at most,” the healer replied.

“Neville used to sleep all night from when he was tiny,” Alice said proudly.

“Did he?” the healer said, “you were lucky. I dream of a night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Neville could walk before he was a year old,” Alice told her, “running after Jess.”

Miriam came over to join them, as she had a few minutes to spare and wanted to see and hold the baby. She noticed that Alice seemed to be enjoying cuddling the baby and she decided to wait her turn.

“Once,” Alice continued as she automatically rocked the baby she was holding, “before he could walk, Neville crawled over to Jess’s food bowl and stuck his hands in it. Jess began to lick the food from his hands but he pushed her away and began to lick his own hands. I grabbed him before he could carry on eating the dog food, turned on the tap in the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He struggled and squealed trying to give his back to Jess to lick clean.” Her eyes softened as she spoke. “After that I made sure that the dog’s bowl was out of reach,” she concluded.

The healers looked at Alice and each other in surprise, this was the longest and most lucid statement they had ever her say and was undoubtedly true. To encourage her expansive mood Miriam asked her, “Have you ever told Neville that story.”

“No, I’ve only just remembered it.”

“Perhaps you should tell him next time he comes in,” Miriam suggested.

“Yes,” Alice murmured. She abruptly stood up from the chair she had been sitting in and thrust the baby towards his mother, who took him from her. Alice turned away and wandered over the art table where she sat unmoving in a chair and stared absently at the paper and paints laid out like a rainbow splash on the white table.

Miriam asked if she could hold the baby. “He’s gorgeous,” she said. “I think he must take after his father, I can’t see much of you in him.”

The younger healer laughed, “I can assure you that is partly me – I was there at the birth!” Miriam smiled with her colleague who added, “He has my nose and my hands.”

Miriam took a hold of one of the baby’s hands, which opened out like a star. “Healer’s hands,” she commented as the baby curled his hand around her finger with a surprisingly tight grip.

Her colleague, changing the subject said, “Alice has shown a lot of improvement even in the few weeks I’ve been away.”

“I know,” replied Miriam, “it’s quite remarkable. I wish we had known about and tried the muggle methods of stimulation and counselling long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked her colleague.

“Healers are taught that damage directly caused by magic can only be healed by magic. Wizards, as you know, can be dismissive of muggle ideas and I suppose, no one wanted to try them out. Perhaps our arrogance and our prejudice had meant that we could have helped some patients more than we did,” she concluded sadly.

“Alice and Frank,” prompted the younger healer, “what’s the prognosis?”

“I think we shall see slow progress over time using the muggle methods and they will see an improvement in their quality of life,” Miriam said as she shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. He was looking at her with an interest and intensity as if he was listening to every word she said. “But the muggle treatment can only go so far - it is an established fact that the only magic can completely heal the damage done the excessive and brutal use of the Cruciatus Curse.”

“Why hasn’t magic been used already?” her colleague asked curiously.

“Because,” answered Miriam sadly, “No wizard has yet had the skill and the power to affect such a cure. You must remember that the use of the Unforgiveable Curses is illegal and hence it is quite rare for serious damage to be inflicted on people. We can use memory charms on people like Gilderoy over there,” she said indicating the patient by the door. “We expect him to be healed in a couple more years – it is a slow process. But for Alice and Frank’s injuries there is not yet a cure in sight.”

“Is anyone working on a cure?” asked her companion intently.

“I believe so. It is a line of research that has been going on for years but always suffers from lack of skilled researchers because it is so uncommon.”

“But no one ever thought to try muggle methods as part of that research,” the younger healer commented drily.

“No,” sighed Miriam, “but they are now. Frank and Alice’s treatment is quite a trailblazer. We get frequent visits from researchers and senior healers these days.”

“I hope one of these researchers finds the key,” observed her colleague, “if any one deserves their lives back, it is Frank and Alice.”

Miriam nodded and the two healers sat quietly watching, waiting and hoping that the one day Frank and Alice would be able to walk away from St Mungo’s to a full life outside of its walls.


	3. Neville's Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N For anyone who’s already read the first two chapters I have changed the name of the older healer to Miriam Strout, which was the name given to her in the book.

Neville Longbottom made the final brushstrokes against the wall and stepped back to look at the finished results. He narrowly avoided a small, brown and white terrier dog which had been sleeping on the paint spattered floor. Neville spoke to the dog, “Well Jack, what do you think of my handiwork?” The dog regarded him with soft brown eyes and settled his head back on to his paws to resume his nap. “That impressed are you old boy?” asked Neville. The dog wasn’t especially old, Neville had bought him shortly after he had left Hogwarts School some seven years ago. Seven long years when, at times, Neville had despaired of his parents ever making a proper recovery. To Neville, wizard healers seemed to be good at dealing with physical injuries like broken limbs or even petrification by a basilisk reflection, but traumas of the mind were not an illness where wizards had mastered a cure. His parents would probably never be fully cured. Hermione had told him it was the same in the muggle world. Few people were ever completely healed of such a trauma – they just learned how to cope, to recognise and deal with the negative symptoms when they occurred, so he shouldn’t be too hard on the wizard healers’ slowness in working out how to help his parents.

A knock sounded on the wooden panel of the door leading into the room, Neville walked around the dog to open the door. On the other side was straight-backed grey haired woman carrying two cups of tea. Neville took one of the cups from her, “Thanks Gran,” he said.

“How are you getting along with the decorating,” she asked coming into the room. She circled the room slowly and examined the walls minutely. 

“I’ve finished!” he declared with satisfaction.

“No – you’ve missed a bit,” she said pointing to patch on the wall.

Neville joined her, “No, that’s just where the paint is still wet. It’ll be fine when it dries properly.” As a child Neville would never have dared to contradict his grandmother, she had scared him with her strict demands and loud reprimands. Once she had embarrassed him by sending a howler by owl to Hogwarts, which had shouted at him loud enough to be heard by the whole school. But since then he had learned what true fear was. He had experienced evil and brutality in his seventh year at Hogwarts, when at times he had felt overwhelmed with the responsibility for keeping the fight going against Voldemort’s supporters and protesting about their abuse of Hogwarts students. During those days he had longed for nothing worse than a howler during meal times. 

His grandmother grunted good-naturedly, “I haven’t got my glasses with me.”

“Yes, Gran,” said Neville taking a sip of his tea to hide his smile. “We’ll lay the carpet tomorrow when the paint has dried,” he told her. “Afterwards we can move in the furniture.” He located his wand which he had left on the ladder and cast a clearing up spell. He walked around the room firing small spells to clean up the splattered paint on the floor.

“Neville, you could have decorated the whole room using magic,” Augusta remarked as she watched him clearing up. “You didn’t have to do it manually - the muggle way.”

“I know but I wanted to put something of me into the room for Mum and Dad. My own time and effort seemed fitting and more personal.”

“I understand,” she said, standing next to him. The both lifted their cups of tea and took a mouthful at the same time. Anyone looking at them would have known at once they were related, although separated in age by sixty years, they had the same grey eyes and upright stance. Neville had long since lost the puppy fat of his early adolescence and stood more than a head taller than his grandmother. He had filled out and developed strong muscles brought about by his work in his market garden where he grew plants and herbs for use in potions and healer’s remedies. 

Many of his cohort at Hogwarts had considered careers as aurors or in the Ministry of Magic but Neville had had his fill of violence and warfare at school. He had done more that was ever expected of him during those dark days, and had earned his place in history, but it was not a path he wanted to continue to tread. Herbology had been his favourite and best subject at school and he chose to grow and nurture plants. These days the fight put up by the mandrakes at repotting time was enough of a battle for him.

Neville finished drinking his tea and Augusta took the cup from him. “You finish tidying up in here now and I’ll go and start dinner. Are we expecting Hannah to join us?” she asked.

Hannah Abbott was Neville’s girlfriend. They had both been in the same year at Hogwarts but had not known each other well when at school and had lost contact when they left Hogwarts. They chanced to meet again a few months ago and started dating. Augusta liked Hannah, she was sweet and kind and found humour in unlikely places. She had been a member of Dumbledore’s Army at school and had been one of the students who remained to fight the Battle of Hogwarts, which raised her up in Augusta’s view over those who didn’t.

“Yes, if that’s all right?” said Neville.

“Of course it is,” she replied. “Hannah’s a nice girl. It’s time you thought about settling down Neville. Harry and Ginny are married; so are Hermione and Ron; even Draco Malfoy found someone who would have him - you could do a lot worse than Hannah.”

“Oh Gran!” said Neville blushing a slight pink.

Augusta deliberately piled on the embarrassment. “I want to live to see my great-grandchildren, you know, so don’t leave it too long, or I shall just be stuck in my bath chair and I’ll scare them so much that they won’t come to visit me.” As she left the room Neville thought that his grandmother would never end her days like that but she did have a point – she wasn’t getting any younger and it was Neville’s responsibility to look after her. Just as it was his responsibility to care for his parents when they came home in a few days. His own future, with or without Hannah (preferably with), would have to wait.

After dinner, Neville and Hannah were sitting close together on the couch with gentle music playing in the background and Jack asleep on the floor by their feet. Augusta had left them alone. She was old fashioned enough not to allow Hannah to stay overnight but she had sufficient tact to give time together before Hannah went home.

“When are your parents are coming back?” asked Hannah.

“Next weekend,” replied Neville.

“And they are well?” she asked as she leant against Neville.

“Yes,” he replied with certainty as he put his arm around her shoulder before confessing, “I’m a bit nervous if I’m honest. I’m not sure how it will work out with us all living here after so long with it just being me and Gran.”

“Your parents have stayed her before, haven’t they?” Hannah asked.

“For a few days now and then, so they could get used to it and to be sure they could make the transition to life outside of St Mungo’s. This time it will be permanent. That’s what worrying.”

“Can’t they go and live in their own house, once they’re familiar with their new life?” Hannah asked. She felt Neville tense and wondered why her question had affected him.

“No,” he said, “Gran sold it a few months after Mum and Dad were first admitted to St Mungo’s – when she was told there was no hope of them ever getting better.” Neville lapsed into silence before continuing somewhat hesitantly, “There was another reason she sold the house. The Death Eaters had tortured them inside it.”

“What!” exclaimed Hannah. “I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do,” Neville admitted. “Gran and Granddad thought it best not to talk about it,” he gave a short laugh, “no one would have bought the house if they’d known, they would think it cursed. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “that wasn’t why Gran and Granddad didn’t tell anyone - it was to protect me.”

“Yes, I can understand that,” said Hannah, “You wouldn’t want to be reminded about the place where your parents were tortured, so by selling it there was one less thing to remind you, and for that matter your grandparents.”

Neville removed his arm from Hannah’s shoulder and turned to face her, “There is more to it than that, Hannah, I was in the house when the Death Eaters came – I saw everything.”

Hannah gasped, “But you were only a baby! How could Bellatrix have done that to a mother in front of her child? She truly was an evil woman.”

“Who knows what goes through the mind of a Death Eater,” said Neville.

“Nothing good,” murmured Hannah, “my own mother was killed by a Death Eater in cold blood. She was going about her normal daily business, she was no threat.”

Neville stared at Hannah’s face, he could see concern and (he hoped) love in her expression. He loved Hannah and wanted her to be a part of his life – they should have no secrets between them. “I don’t remember it,” he said, “Gran has told me since what must have happened. Mum and Dad won’t speak of it to me.”

“Tell me about it, Neville,” she said softly, she wanted to know everything that had made him the man she saw before her, the man she had fallen in love with.

Neville moved to lean back against the couch and replaced his arm around Hannah. In moving he had disturbed Jack, who shuffled position and resettled himself. Neville started at the ceiling and began the tale.

“I asked Gran how the Death Eaters could have found out where Mum and Dad lived and why they didn’t have a secret keeper like Harry’s parents did. Mum and Dad were both aurors and worked for the Ministry of Magic.” Neville felt Hannah nod in acknowledgement. “Their address would have been a matter of record at their workplace. The Death Eaters must have had spies at the Ministry and no amount of secret keepers would have saved them.”

“It didn’t save Harry’s parents, did it?” commented Hannah.

“No,” agreed Neville grimly. “My parent’s house was protected,” he said, “they had all manner of wards, protective spells and charms around it. The Death Eaters would have known about that and came armed with counterspells.

“My parents were both at home that day. Gran and Granddad worked out that the Death Eaters must have first attacked the house at the front door. Dad ran to the door to distract the Death Eaters to give Mum time to grab me and get away.

“Mum tried to disapparate, even though you shouldn’t disapparate with a baby, but this was an emergency. What my parents didn’t know was that the first thing the Death Eaters had done when they arrived was to cast a spell to prevent apparition,” he glanced over towards Hannah, “You know – like Dumbeldore did at Hogwarts.” Hannah nodded in acknowledgement and Neville continued. “So Mum and Dad were trapped in their own house. The Death Eaters had also prevented them from using the floo network.”

“Like Umbridge,” commented Hannah drily.

“Mum ran to the back door with me but the Death Eaters were blocking that way out too. Dad was still at the front door, by then the Death Eaters had broken through – in the muggle way by using an axe. 

“Jess must have attacked one of the Death Eaters because she was hit by an Avada Kadavra curse. When Gran and Granddad found her they thought she was dead, but she wasn’t. Harry isn’t the first to survive a killing curse,” Neville said proudly in memory of his dog.

“Mum must have known that she had no chance of running away, so she hid me in a cupboard. I had been stunned with the Petrificus Totalus spell. Gran thinks Mum must have done it to stop me from crawling away or making a noise. Mum even had the presence of mind to banish all of my baby toys and equipment, so there was no sign that a baby lived in the house.”

“Surely Bellatrix would have known that Frank and Alice had a child?” queried Hannah.

“Perhaps with no evidence of a baby she didn’t remember that piece of information. Or maybe the informant at the Ministry was under an Imperius curse and only gave the information they had been told to provide – Mum and Dad’s address,” Neville speculated.

“The Death Eaters tortured my parents for hours,” whispered Neville, “First Dad and then Mum.”

“What about the neighbours?” asked Hannah in horror, “Surely someone would have done something?”

“Those were dark days,” said Neville gloomily, “like when Harry was on the run from Voldemort. No one saw anything, no one intervened. Gran said the house had been covered with a sound proofing charm, so it is possible that no one heard the screams.”

“Oh Neville, that’s awful,” Hannah said touching in arm in sympathy.

He carried on with his narration. “Gran and Granddad weren’t intending to visit Mum and Dad that day, they stopped by because I’d lost my favourite toy the last time we’d been at Gran’s house. They had found my toy stuffed down the back of the couch. Gran said that she and Granddad never needed much of an excuse to visit their baby grandson.”

Neville’s face took on a haunted expression and he continued to speak in a soft voice that Hannah had to strain to hear but she didn’t want to ask him to speak louder. He was obviously finding it difficult to relate this story and if she stopped him he may never tell it again. “Gran and Granddad knew something was wrong the second they apparated in front of the house – the door was smashed off its hinges. The rushed inside and saw Jess’s body on the floor in the hallway. The door to the lounge was ajar and Gran heard someone groaning inside. Gran threw open the door and screamed out loud when she saw the scene.” Neville glanced over at Hannah, “It must have been bad to make Gran scream. She said the couch had been thrown against the wall, the table smashed into tiny pieces. The healers found hundreds of splinters in Dad – he must have taken the full force of it. Every piece of china and glass was broken, the soot and ash from the fireplace was sprayed around the room covering everything in a grey dust. The sign of the Dark Mark was etched into the wall above the fire place – that was how Gran and Granddad knew at once who was responsible.” Neville spoke even more quietly, the pain in his voice evident. “Dad was hunched up in the corner of the room leaning against the door leading into the kitchen. His head was bleeding and his face bruised and swollen so much he was barely recognisable. He was whispering, “Stop, stop, leave her alone, stop, take me, kill me instead, leave her alone.” Gran said his body was twitching uncontrollably with each word.”

Hannah felt a wave of empathetic pain sweep over her as Neville continued although she knew the telling was not easy for him.

“Mum was lying on the floor among the broken crockery and glass; her body was covered in cuts and gashes; she was staring vacantly at the ceiling and she didn’t speak a word for nearly 15 years.” Neville took a deep breath and continued in a slightly firmer tone. “Gran said, “Where’s Neville?”. Granddad told her to look for me and he would take Frank and Alice to St Mungo’s. That was when they discovered they couldn’t apparate out of the house. They used a levitation spell to take Mum and Dad out of the house and Granddad went at once to St Mungo’s. Gran almost tore the house apart looking for me. She finally found me in a cupboard in the lounge, the room where Mum and Dad had been tortured. I was frozen by the body bind curse.” His tone became more conversational as he added as an aside, “The body bind only freezes the major muscles, you can still breathe, blink and your heart keeps beating.”

Hannah already knew this but she said nothing to break the flow of Neville’s narration.

“I expect I would have starved to death if Gran had found me,” he said casually. “Gran said the cupboard I was in had Venetian style slats which I must have been able to see through, although no one could see in. Gran released me with the Finite Incantatum spell. She said the second she did it my eyes filled with terror and I screamed the most deafening sound she had ever heard from me. She picked me up and I clung to her desperately. She rocked me and tried to comfort me until my screaming was down to sobbing. Then she tried to take me back to her house – this house,” he said to Hannah indicating the room they were sitting in, “by the floo network but of course it wouldn’t work. Gran rushed out of the house to go to a neighbour’s house to use their fireplace. As she crossed the hall I saw Jess on the floor and screamed and struggled to get out of her arms to get down to Jess. Gran believed Jess to be dead but I was so upset that she picked Jess up and carried us both out of the house. She said I clung onto Jess and stopped sobbing. Gran ran to a neighbour’s house and demanded to use their fireplace. Gran berated the neighbour for doing nothing while her son and his wife were attacked in their own home by Death Eaters. The neighbour said he had been out all day and had only just come back. I don’t think Gran really believed him but he let her use the floo network to get home.

“When we got back here, Gran tried to take Jess from but I still wouldn’t let her go. It was then that Gran noticed that Jess was still breathing. She called up a local animal healer who was able to treat Jess and probably saved her life. Gran managed to clean me up and give me something to eat and I eventually fell asleep. But that night and every night afterwards for weeks I would wake up screaming in terror. The healers said that the nightmares were most likely related to what I had witnessed and that Gran and Granddad should try to make me feel safe and secure and that the nightmares would eventually stop.” Neville paused in a slight indecision as to whether he should confess the next part of his story but ploughed on, he had told Hannah more than he had ever told anyone before so she should hear the whole story. “But Gran couldn’t bear to hear me crying in such terror, she said it broke her heart to hear her grandson in such anguish and she decided to do something about it. She used a memory charm on me to make me forget what I had seen. As I grew up Gran noticed that I wasn’t very good at remembering things. When I was Hogwarts I would often forget the password to the common room and class instructions, especially in potions. Gran was always sending me remembralls.”

“Oh yes,” said Hannah, “During your first broomstick lesson you ended up in the hospital wing. Draco Malfoy got hold of your remembrall when it fell out your pocket.”

“That’s right,” agreed Neville, pleased that Hannah had known this small snippet about him. Most people knew this story only in relation to Harry having shown his skill as a potential seeker whilst catching a ball that Draco Malfoy had thrown. Few people knew it had been Neville’s remembrall. “Anyway, one of my Uncles told me years later that Gran had felt responsible for my bad memory and that if she hadn’t used a memory charm I might never had suffered from forgetfulness.” He paused for a second and added thoughtfully, “I’ve never blamed Gran for it, she was only trying to help me but Professor McGonagall once told me that Gran failed her Charms OWL, so there may be some truth in it.” He smiled across at Hannah, “My memory is much better now. I think it was all the practice we had when we part of Dumbledore’s Army, not being able to write things down in case the information fell into the wrong hands. Plus, the healer who helped Mum and Dad also had a look at me and she was able to use a healer’s memory charm to help me. The healer used to work at Hogwarts, the year that Harry defeated Voldemort. Do you remember her?”

“I can’t say I do,” replied Hannah, “but then you spent a lot more time in the hospital wing that year than I did, Neville!” Taking advantage of Neville’s expansive mood Hannah asked him to tell her about his grandfather.

Neville leaned back against the chair and began to reminisce. “Granddad died when I was 10 but my memories of him are clear and always have been.” He paused for a second, “When I was little my Gran was very strict with me but she was never unkind. As a child I couldn’t see the difference and I would often run to Granddad when I thought she had been particularly harsh. He rarely overrode whatever punishment she had given me, and I didn’t expect him to. The punishments were usually things like no dessert after dinner, or going to bed early, withholding pocket money, or not being allowed out to play. Granddad would listen to my story and then explain what I had done wrong and why Gran had seen fit to reprimand me. It was the telling of my side of things that helped me to understand.” Neville sighed and said “He wasn’t a weak man, but he had lived with my Gran long enough to know what was important and what wasn’t. I remember one occasion when Granddad took Gran to task over one incident. Gran was telling me off because I had muddled up something she had told me to do. 

“Neville,” she said angrily, “you have a memory like a sieve. You knew that I needed you to pass on the message about halving the coal order this week, but instead you said we needed double - now we have enough coal to provide fuel for the whole village and nowhere to store it! Let alone the cost of the fuel – we’ll have to eat coal instead of food. I’ve a good mind to put the coal in your bedroom and you can sleep in the coal shed.”

“Granddad came into the kitchen at that point. “Augusta!” he said sharply – in a way I had never heard him speak to Gran. “If you need Neville to pass on messages then write it down.” He stared at her and said assertively. ”You know where responsibility lies for this.” 

“To my amazement Gran turned white as a sheet and I swear she was about to cry, she rushed out of the room and said no more about the coal incident. I know now, of course, that Granddad was referring to her attempt at using a memory charm me. 

“Anyway, Granddad was a kind and patient man. When I first went to school he would spend hours with me helping me to learn to read and write and do simple maths. I don’t think that Gran would have been able to do it, she would have got frustrated with my slowness. Without that groundwork I would have been so far behind I doubt I would ever have got into Hogwarts. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “for ages Gran thought I would never get into Hogwarts because I showed no sign of magic and they thought I was a squib. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned, Granddad was furious — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying. When I told Granddad that Gran had been crying tears of joy he looked at me in a strange, sad way and gave me a hug before he went to tell Uncle Algie what a dangerous and stupid thing he’d done.”

“Surely your grandparents must have been glad that you had magic,” said Hannah in slight puzzlement.

“I think that having lost their son and daughter-in-law to magic they had hoped not to lose their grandson in the same way. If I was a squib then I could never become an auror and try to avenge my parents. Once they knew I had magic they were determined I would get the best training on how to use it so there was no question that I would go to any other school than Hogwarts.”

“I’m sure your Granddad would be proud of how you helped defeat Voldemort,” commented Hannah.

“Grandad would have been proud of me whatever I did,” said Neville. “Although,” he added in a lighter tone, “perhaps not if I turned to a life of crime!”

“Do you mean crimes like writing graffiti such as “Dumbledore’s Army – still recruiting” on the school walls? Refusing to obey a teacher when he told you to use the Cruciatus Curse on students who’d earned detentions? Crimes like asking a teacher how much mudblood she had? Crimes like trying to steal the sword of Gryffindor from the headmaster’s office?” Hannah said sardonically.

“I think he would have disapproved of the last one,” Neville conceded, “especially when it turned out that Snape had been one of good guys after all.”

“He wouldn’t have disapproved of this,” said Hannah as she gently traced the line of a scar along his cheek, earned for refusing to use the Cruciatus Curse.

“No, I suppose not,” said Neville removing Hannah’s had from his face and holding it on his lap. “I was 10 when Granddad died. Gran and I were at his bedside, he just slipped into a deep sleep and never woke up. I was distraught and know than Gran was too, but she kept a brave face and tried to be strong for me. I thought that it was a weakness if I cried in front of her, so I did all my crying with Jess, my dog. It must have been harder for Gran because she had nobody to cry with.

“I still miss Granddad, you know, even after all these years. He was my confidant, a sympathetic yet sensible listener who always gave me good advice and helped me to understand how and why people are all different. He was also great fun. Before his final illness we would play mad games - him, me and Jess romping in the grass, playing Ground Quidditch – Jess was always the seeker – Gran would join in sometimes. Those are the times I remember most fondly from my childhood.” Neville stopped speaking and didn’t resume. Hannah snuggled up closer to him on the couch and maintained the respectful silence for a fine man she had never known.

\--oOo--

The following weekend Neville and Augusta went to the Janus Thickey ward for long term spell damage at St Mungo’s for what they hoped would be the last time. The ward had changed significantly since the first time they had come some 24 years ago. The ward had been extended and now comprised self-contained private living areas for the patients, each equipped with its own bedroom, lounge, bathroom and a kitchen for those that wanted it. It was easy for wizards to make changes to buildings and each unit was arranged for the needs of the occupants. The ward still had an area laid out in the more traditional manner with rows of beds because not all patients were capable of any degree of independent living and needed constant nursing care and supervision. The window at the end of this part of the ward still looked out onto the wall of the building opposite and images of landscapes were still projected onto its wall. Today the image was of a sunny meadow, speckled with colourful flowers and green grass, with a bright blue sky overseeing it all.

Neville and Augusta entered living quarters number 1 where Frank and Alice were waiting for them. On the floor of the lounge were two bags, pitifully small, that contained all that Frank and Alice wanted to take away from the place where they had spent almost half of their lives. These days Alice and Frank both stood up straight and faced the world with a confidence denied to them for so many years. They had lost their gaunt appearance and their hair, although whiter than Augusta’s, was sleek and full. The lines on their faces were smoothed out by gaining a little fat. Alice had the same shape face now that Neville had sported when he was a boy. Traces of her could be seen in his round nose and full lips. 

“Are you ready to leave?” Neville asked his parents.

“Yes!” they replied emphatically.

Miriam Strout, the healer, had come into the room with Neville and Augusta to say a final goodbye to the people she had looked after for so many years. Once she had thought that Frank and Alice would never be the people they were before their injuries but she was glad to have been proved wrong. If anyone deserved a life outside of these walls it was Frank and Alice. Miriam had already said a long farewell to them and did not need to repeat all that had been said. 

Neville picked up his parents’ bags and the Longbottom family walked out of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the last time, a family reunited after so many years apart. They made no insincere promises to visit, which Miriam could well understand – they were looking to the future not remembering the past. She followed the family along the length of the ward, passed the shared part of the ward where the beds were occupied by patients who needed to be seen by staff or those who had no desire for a private room – those for whom isolation was a fear. The ward was strangely silent as Frank and Alice progressed down the aisle between the rows of beds, the remaining patients understanding the significance of their departure. That hope was never lost; time could heal many hurts: loved ones could hold the key to recovery and that perhaps one day it would somebody else’s turn to walk away from the long term spell damage ward.

Augusta opened the door which led out of the ward and held it open for Neville whose hands were full with the bags. Alice and Frank stepped out the door with confidence. Miriam followed behind them and stood in the doorway preventing the door from shutting as Augusta let go of it. As she relinquished her hold on the door Augusta said with genuine sincerity, “Miriam, thank you for all you’ve done for Frank and Alice. There were times over the years when I thought this day would never come – when we could all go home together.”

“You are most welcome, Augusta” replied Miriam, “I hope that all will be well. You know that I am always available if you need help or advice while they settle in to life outside of St Mungo’s, or at any time afterwards.”

“Yes,” said Augusta. She had received a lot of instruction from hospital staff about how to help Frank and Alice and what to expect, but she felt confident that she and Neville could cope. If they couldn’t she would have no hesitation in seeking assistance. Augusta held out her hand and Miriam clasped it firmly. The two women shook hands for the first and only time. “Goodbye Miriam.”

“Goodbye Augusta.”

Frank and Alice were a few paces along the corridor, Augusta completed the handshake and walked briskly to catch up. Miriam remained by the door propping it open with her body and watched the Longbottom family walk out of her life and into their own. She was no Seer but believed that Alice and Frank would find their way and enjoy the remainder of their lives in the company of their family. The family who had never given up on their incapacitated relatives, like so many that Miriam had witnessed who did. The love this family had for each other shone through and it was this, Miriam knew, that had sustained Alice and Frank through the long, dark, wilderness years. The four people Miriam was observing reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner to descend the stairs and were lost to her view.

She heard her name being called from the ward, she stepped back inside and let the door swing slowly shut behind her. She heard the quiet click as it locked into position. She straightened up her posture and walked calmly in the direction of the patient who had called for her. She was a healer and the best part of the job was when your patient no longer needed you because they were able to live independently. 

A movement out of the window caught her eye. The projected image onto the wall of the building opposite had just changed – now it showed a pair of birds flying in the blue sky, gliding on the unseen thermal currents in the sky, dancing around one another in graceful aerial acrobatics. Miriam smiled with pleasure and thought of Frank and Alice finally free to soar.


	4. Frank's Future

Soaring was far from Frank’s mind when he arrived at Augusta’s house - the home that Frank and subsequently, Neville, had grown up in. It was a modest detached, red brick house set towards the front of a medium size plot. The front garden was a riot of colour, with beds of flowers lining the path to a door painted dark green that was the entrance to the house. As he walked down the path, Frank could smell the delicate aroma of the flowers. He paused at a pink rose which was in full bloom, he leaned towards it and inhaled its sweet fragrance.

“That one is called Homecoming Queen,” Neville informed him. Frank glanced over at Alice who was smelling a peach coloured rose. “That one is called Peace,” Neville said quietly.

“Did you do all this?” Frank asked his son, with a sweep of his hand to indicate the garden.

“Yes,” replied Neville. “Sometimes I grow plants for their beauty and not their usefulness.”

“They are beautiful,” Alice said standing next to her son, who was a good nine inches taller than her, matching his father’s height. “And the smell is not overpowering.”

Neville smiled – that had been his intention – a colourful display to counteract the rich starkness of the building but with a gently welcoming scent that followed you along the path but didn’t come with you into the house. Augusta opened the door and they entered the house. A small brown and white dog ran into the hallway and rushed up to Neville wagging its tail enthusiastically. Neville placed the bags he was still carrying onto the floor, knelt down and stroked the dog in greeting. 

“Hello Jack,” said Frank, who had seen the dog several times when they had visited in preparation for their return. Jack came over to Frank who petted him in greeting to be shortly joined by Alice. When Jack was satisfied that these visitors were friends he wandered back into the kitchen.

“I’ll take your bags upstairs,” Neville said. Frank and Alice followed him as Augusta went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Neville took the bags into a large room facing onto the garden they had just walked through. It had been Neville’s childhood room and Frank’s before him. Neville had moved into the smallest bedroom when he knew his parents were coming home. He put the bags on the king size double bed. “Gran’s making a cup of tea,” he said. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Frank and Alice took in the room that was to be their home from now on. Light flooded in through a pair of sash windows and illuminated the room with a soft light. The walls had been freshly painted in pale blue, a set of cream coloured wardrobes were aligned along one wall opposite the bed. On either side of the bed were matching cabinets, the same colour as the wardrobe. On one of the cabinets was a pot plant with dark green leaves and vibrant purple flowers. 

“Did you grow this one too?” Frank asked Neville.

“Yes,” said Neville proudly because it was a difficult plant to grow and had needed careful and particular attention in order to thrive.

Alice opened her bag and transferred her few belongings into the wardrobe and cabinets. She completed the task quickly and there was ample space remaining. Augusta walked into the bedroom to tell them that the tea was brewing. She looked at all the empty space on the rail. “Perhaps you need to go shopping for buy more clothes,” she observed.

“That would be nice,” Alice said eagerly looking from Augusta to Neville. Whilst Alice had never been obsessed with shopping, she had sufficient influence from her mother to appreciate good clothes.

“Why don’t you go with Hannah?” Neville suggested, the idea of shopping for women’s clothes did not appeal to him. “She has good taste.”

“Of course she does, son,” said Frank mischievously, “She is dating you.”

Neville blushed, Frank grinned. There was a certain satisfaction in embarrassing your children as long as it was not done maliciously. His smile faded slightly as he recalled all the other aspects of Neville’s life that he had missed out on. He was aware of a sombre emotion starting to creep into his mind, like a grey cloud moving across the sun. This was a familiar sensation that had plagued him since Bellatrix had tortured him. For many years he had simply closed down and retreated into nothingness when the feeling came, but as part of his recovery he had been shown how to cope. The feeling in this instance was mild and he easily thought of positive things and pushed the clouds aside. Sometimes the blackness would not go and took longer to work through, in extreme cases he resorted to medical potions but he was far from that today. He spoke to Augusta to distract himself from the feelings, “Mother, did you mention tea?” For the rest of the day the Longbottom family acted like they were guests in their own home as they began to accustom themselves to living together on a permanent basis. Frank and Alice went to bed early claiming to be tired but in reality it was to be alone and away from Augusta’s over anxious hospitality.

In privacy of their bedroom, Frank lay in bed and watched Alice get ready for bed. He recalled the first time he had seen her. It was during a ball at Beauxbatons School where he had spending time with his French exchange student. His French companion had been politely remaining with Frank at the ball, as good manners demanded, but it was clear to Frank that he would rather be enjoying the event with his friends than struggling to communicate with Frank’s basic knowledge of the French language. Someone had pointed out the English girl standing on her own against the wall and Frank had volunteered to keep her company, much to the relief of his exchange student who readily agreed to the plan.

Frank attended Hogwarts School and knew all the girls of around his own age at the school but he didn’t recognise this girl. She watched warily as he approached, glancing to either side of her as if to see who he really coming to speak to. He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him in mild surprise. She was shorter than he was, with dark brown hair tied back into a bun, she had a round face and grey eyes which were reflecting the light from the ballroom like colourful stars. 

“Hello,” he said, looking down at her and holding out his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Frank.”

“Alice,” she said returning his handshake quickly and pulling her hand away. She had small soft hands and Frank found himself wishing the handshake had lasted longer.

“You’re English aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“So am I,” he said. “Do you go to school here?” he asked.

“No.”

“Neither do I - I’m here with my French exchange student.” He paused for her to respond but she made no reply or comment and Frank began to wonder if he might have been better to stay with his the French students and struggle with the language. He persevered with the conversation - it would be impolite to just walk away. “Then what brings you here?” he asked.

“My father,” she said indicating with her head a distinguished looking grey haired man who was talking with the wizard that Frank knew to be the Beauxbaton’s Principal. 

“Are you going to come to school here?” he asked.

She stared at him as if the idea had never occurred to her. “No, I have private tutors at home. I don’t need to go to school.”

He hadn’t met anyone who was home schooled before and asked out of interest, “How are you going to do the OWL examinations? Do you have to do them at home on your own?”

For the first time she smiled and it made her rather plain face light up, Frank felt his heart give a lurch, and at some instinctive level he knew that there would only ever be one person to share his life and he was looking at her. “No,” she said, unaware of the emotions currently flooding through Frank, “I shall take them at Hogwarts. My tutor says it’s easier to organise the OWLs if all the examinees are in the same place at the same time.”

“Are you doing them this year?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes,” she replied.

“So am I – we shall do them together. What subjects are you taking?”

After that the ice was broken and Alice spoke animatedly and enthusiastically about the subjects she was studying for. She had a perspective on learning that was new to Frank who studied subjects because he had to and not because he wanted to.

When Alice came to Hogwarts to take her OWLs Frank was her guide, showing her around the school and sharing anecdotes and cautions about the staff, students and school. Alice passed her OWLs with good grades and persuaded her parents to let her come to Hogwarts to do her NEWTs. Those last two years at Hogwarts were the best years of Frank’s time there. He and Alice were inseparable and their classmates jokingly referred to them Mr and Mrs Longbottom long before they actually were. Influenced by Alice’s sensible approach to studying they both achieved top grades in their NEWTs and enrolled in the Ministry of Magic’s auror training course, in which they both graduated with distinction. At that time Voldemort was already on his first rise to power. Much of Frank and Alice’s early work was investigating disappearances of wizards and witches, especially those with a known link to the muggleborn or those who supported and defended muggles. 

Given their line of work, Frank and Alice had intended to wait until the battle with Voldemort was over before having children. Alice’s pregnancy with Neville had been unplanned and unexpected but he was never unwanted. They should have stopped working as aurors as soon as they realised a baby was on the way, but they thought the cause was too important to just walk away from. They already had a reputation as diligent and capable aurors and perhaps they would always have been a target to the Death Eaters whether or not they were working as aurors.

Neville was now of a similar age that Frank and Alice were when they had been injured. Frank was deeply sorrowful and resentful that he had missed out on seeing his son grow up. Despite the fact that Neville had been a regular visitor with Augusta to St Mungo’s, those days were a black hole in Frank’s memories, just vague feelings of security knowing that Alice was nearby, and impressions of other people flitting in out of their daily routine. For a long time Neville had figured no more than some of the senior healers who popped in from time to time to check on Frank’s progress and always declared there had been none. 

On his darker days, Frank would speculate whether Neville would have had a better life if he and Alice had died that day. Admittedly Neville would have been an orphan like Harry Potter but unlike Harry, he would have been brought up by people who loved him and cared for his welfare. Neville wouldn’t have needed to visit St Mungo’s and see the parents he couldn’t remember ever being whole and who were less than a shadow of what they once were. Perhaps Neville’s parents would have been remembered as heroes and not forgotten as an embarrassment. Perhaps their house would have been marked out as a shrine to their bravery and not sold because the money was needed for medical fees. 

As part of his counselling Frank had been advised to look on the positive side and rejoice in what he had found rather than what he had lost. He knew that if he had died the day that Bellatrix attacked him he would never have seen his son reach adulthood, and for that he was grateful. He was not sorry that Bellatrix was dead, she deserved it. Her incarceration at Azkaban had not turned her from her path of evil. She was one of the people who had survived the feelings of despair caused by the dementors because she had no remorse for the things she had done.

Alice finished her night time ablutions and climbed into bed next to Frank. He stopped his reminiscing, lay down under the sheets and pulled her into his arms. It was wonderful to be able to share a bed with Alice after years of sleeping apart. When the private rooms at St Mungo’s had been created the hospital regulations stopped short of providing double beds. Frank and Alice had simply pushed the two single beds together but a proper double bed was so much better. There was no annoying gap in the centre forcing the occupants to be on one side or the other. Like many other factors which St Mungo’s had overlooked when caring for Frank and Alice, sharing a bed calmed their sleep and the nightmares had almost become a thing of the past. 

Despite the early hour Alice and Frank soon drifted off to sleep secure in each other’s arms and comforted by their presence.

\--oOo—

Frank was bored. For a man who had spent over 15 years sitting or lying down and staring vacantly into nothingness for hours on end, you may think that he was used to boredom but this was altogether different. At St Mungo’s he was like a clockwork toy that had been overwound and emptied out of movement and initiative which spent its time just sitting and staring into space waiting for the toymaker to fix him. The sedative potions they had been given at St Mungo’s in the name of compassionate treatment had added to his inactivity. Now that the key to wind him up and reanimate him had been found he was ready and eager to take his place in the world.

He and Alice had been living with Augusta and Neville for several months and they no longer felt like guests. The four of them worked as unit in the running of the household but Frank wanted more from his life than domesticity. He and Alice had often spoken of what they could do to be of more help. They both had a small disability pension from the Ministry of Magic, which was given to any auror who was injured in the line of duty. As it happened, Augusta and her husband had been obliged to fight for the pension when a jobs-worth wizard at the Ministry (who had never faced anything more dangerous than a paper aeroplane memo flying off-course through his office at the Ministry), had tried to argue that Frank and Alice had not actually been on duty when they were injured and so did not qualify for a pension. Dumbledore, to his credit, had added his voice to Augusta’s argument and it was probably his intervention that enabled her to get the money, most of which had gone straight to St Mungo’s for the cost of Frank and Alice’s care. Now they were no longer patients at the hospital the money was being used for the cost of everyday living.

Frank was an early riser and was the first up in the morning; one of his self-appointed tasks was to make breakfast. Neville came into the kitchen wearing his work clothes.

“You’re up early, Neville,” Frank commented.

“I’ve a lot of work to get through at the greenhouse,” Neville explained. “The Devil’s Trumpet have all flowered at the same time and the flowers need to be hand-picked and dried within 24 hours or they lose their effectiveness when used in potions. I’ll be working all day but I may still lose some of the crop.”

“I’ll help,” offered Frank instantly. “You only need to tell me what to do.”

Neville hesitated, his parents had been to the greenhouses several times to have a look around but Neville hadn’t encouraged their participation in his work. If he was honest, he needed time away from his parents and grandmother and the greenhouses was where he got it. But the Devil’s Trumpet was one of the most profitable plants he grew, he could not afford to lose it, especially as he was the main wage earner in the household. He accepted his father’s offer. “Thanks Dad. You’ll need your wand.”

Frank and Neville emerged from the apparation outside the greenhouses. Although wizards were capable of using spells to control the weather, such charms required almost constant attention and the use of greenhouses was preferred for its reliability, leaving the wizards to concentrate the spell making on other areas of horticulture. Neville opened the door to the glasshouse which housed the Devil’s Trumpet, as the door swung inwards they were greeted by the rush of warm damp air and the sweet scent of the red trumpet shaped blooms, set among the almost violet colour of the oval shaped leaves. Several insects buzzed around the men when they entered the greenhouse. 

Neville swatted at them, “It looks like I’ve got a problem with insects too,” he complained. “I’ll have to deal with those when we’ve saved the flowers.” Neville removed his robes and hung them on a peg by the door, it would be far too hot to work in robes. Neville was clad in a T-shirt and shorts - years of manual labour in the fields and greenhouses had made Neville’s arms muscular and the strong lines of his torso were clearly defined under his T shirt. The task for today required finesse so Frank’s lesser physique was not an impediment.

Neville cast an expert eye over the flowers and quickly walked down some of the aisles between the plants which grew to about 3 feet tall and were on slightly raised beds. “Some of these flowers are already fading,” he said to Frank, “the colour is very important - the deeper red it is the more I can charge.” He had reached the end of an aisle with Frank close behind him where there was a workbench against one wall. Neville picked up two pairs of gloves and gave a pair to Frank. “All parts of the plant are toxic,” he said to his father, “It’s best to wear gloves in case you get part of the plant on your hands and accidently ingest it. Not that we handle them much,” he said when he saw Frank’s worried look as he pulled the gloves on. “Most of the work is done using your wand. Use a simple cutting spell to remove the flower from the plant. Next you preserve the flower using a freeze-dry spell.”

“Freeze-dry? What’s that?” asked Frank.

“It’s a term Hermione used when she helped me invent the spell. I needed a spell that preserved the plant so it could be stored for a long time but also retained its colour. Hermione said the muggles have a preserving technique called freeze-drying with does just those things, with the added bonus that the treated flowers are lightweight and makes them easier to transport. The spell we developed mimics the process that the muggles use and has been a complete success. Hermione even suggested that I copyright the spell so that I earn money when anyone else uses it. In fact, I get quite a regular income from the copyright.”

“Do I have to pay copyright fees to use it?” Frank asked lightly.

Neville smiled, “Not today. Let me show you the spell. Each flower has to be treated individually as soon as it cut from the stem. I haven’t been able to make the spell work on more than one flower at the same time. All I ended up doing was freezing the entire plant, which is no good because the leaves have to be treated differently when I harvest those.”

Frank had left his wand in his robes and he walked back to the entrance to fetch it. The patients on the long term spell damage ward at St Mungo’s had not been permitted to have wands. It was only when he had found his wand at Augusta’s house that he realised how much he had missed it. The purchase of their first wand was almost a rite of passage for a young wizard: - the excitement of the selection on display in the shop – Ollivander’s shop in Frank’s case – the anticipation of which wand would be yours and when the wand chose you it was as if the final part of the jigsaw of your body is fitted and you feel complete for the first time, without ever having realised before that something was missing. A wizard’s wand was an integral part of their identity. Frank now thought that the hospital policy of removing wands from long term patients, whilst understandable from a patient safety point of view, may have also had the effect of impeding recovery as patients struggled to find themselves after their trauma.

Frank was keen to learn new spells and after he had mastered the freeze-dry spell, (ruining a few of the fading flowers when he practiced), Neville set him to work - cutting, freeze-drying and sorting the blooms into crates dependent upon their colour. “I have a good reputation for quality control,” he told his father, “if you’re not quite sure which crate it should go in, put the plant to one side and I’ll sort them later. Leave one or two flowers on each plant – the most faded ones. They will have to produce fruit so that I have seeds for next year.”

By the middle of the afternoon Neville realised that something was seriously wrong with the crop. Not only had all the plants bloomed at the same time, when he had purposefully planted them at different times so that they matured at different rates, but the flowers were fading unnaturally quickly. Normally the blooms would be at their peak for about two days but this crop was deteriorating already. With only himself and his father working they would not be able to harvest the crop in time. Neville needed more help. He cast his patronus, which was the shape of a golden eagle, and within a few minutes Hannah had arrived ready to assist. Frank told Neville to call for Alice and Augusta who willingly added their labour to the task. Frank continued with the harvest whilst Neville showed the women how to use the freeze-dry spell. Frank noticed that his son was very good at teaching them the spell, which none of them had known but under his tuition they learnt it rapidly. Soon all five wizards were working as quickly as they could to save the crop. 

Augusta and Alice had brought Jack with them and the dog, who regularly accompanied Neville to work, was reacquainting himself with the smells and sounds of the greenhouse. He rushed up and down the aisles, stopping frequently to investigate things that were of interest only to a dog. He wriggled his small body into a gap behind the plant closest to the wall of the greenhouse so that only his tail was visible, wagging animatedly as he sniffed at his latest find. Neville was the nearest to Jack and spared an indulgent glance at his pet. Suddenly he heard a low throated growl come from Jack and the dog began to dig furiously at the earth by the glass wall. It was unusual for Jack to growl unless there was a rat nearby. Neville stopped work and went over to see what Jack had found. The rear end of Jack was wriggling from side to side as his paws scratched at the surface of the ground. The hole he was digging became bigger as he worked until it was large enough for him to put his head inside. The dog gave a sharp bark and rammed his head into the hole. Neville heard a soft scrabbling and saw something emerge from the hole, Jack backed out the hole and with surprising speed turned in the restricted space and clamped his jaws around the object that Neville had just seen.

“What have you got there, boy?” Neville said, moving slowly towards Jack. The dog crept out from between the plants and stood in the aisle in front of Neville, with something small and dark brown dangling from his mouth. “Jack, drop it,” commanded Neville. Jack made no move to obey. “I said drop it!” Neville repeated, readying his wand to stop whatever it was that Jack had found as soon as he let go. Slowly Jack opened his jaws and an object fell from his mouth and landed on the floor. Neville saw it twitch when it landed on the ground indicating that it was not dead. He chose not to cast a spell but instead summoned a glass container from the workbench and placed it over the creature. He then knelt on the floor to examine what Jack had found. 

Frank having heard Jack’s bark had come over to investigate and together the two men looked at the creature in the jar. It was a humanoid shape, dark brown in colour and about eight inches high. It rolled over inside the jar and sat up.

“That’s an imp!” declared Frank.

“An imp?” said Neville looking around, “If there’s one there must be more.”

Imps were troublesome creatures, almost vermin. Alice and Hannah came over to see why the men had stopped working. Hannah peered into the glass jar, “So that what an imp looks like. It’s a bit like a pixie with all the colour washed out. It is quite cute though.”

“Cute!” exclaimed Neville, “there’s nothing cute about imps. They cause all sorts of mischief. In fact,” he said slowly as a thought struck him, “I bet the problem with the Devil’s Trumpet was caused by that thing,” he said gesturing angrily at the creature under the jar which was now crawling around the ground under the jar to see if it could find a way out. He raised his wand preparing to cast a spell to get rid of the imp when he heard his mother give a low gasp. He glanced towards the sound and saw a stricken look on Alice’s face, her eyes looking haunted as a memory rushed unbidden of another person standing with a raised wand over a cowering creature crawling on the floor in fear ready to cast a curse that caused only pain.

Neville slowly lowered his wand and Hannah asked “You weren’t going to kill it were you?”

Neville had been about to kill it but shook his head, “I was going to banish it.” He saw a softening of his mother’s expression and he was relieved that he would not be responsible for causing her to see a repeat of her nightmares. 

“How do you know it’s the imp causing the problem with the Devil’s Trumpet?” Hannah asked to remove the tension of the situation.

“I remember reading something somewhere about a species of imp that has an ability to make plants grow quicker than they should.” Neville replied. 

“What’s the point of that?” asked Frank, “Why would imps need to be able to influence plants? I could understand it if imps were herbivores and they needed to make the plants grow so they could eat them, but imps eat insects. It would make more sense if imps could make insects speed through their life cycle.”

“It’s much easier to alter plants by magic than it is to alter animals,” explained Neville. “That’s why wizards are better at arable farming than livestock farming. Maybe the same applies to imp magic,” he said as he reasoned his line of thought out loud. “If the imps can bring the plants to maturity more quickly than they would naturally grow, the insects which feed and pollinate the plants would be drawn to them and so increase the food supply for the imps.” He looked around the greenhouse and said, “Look at all the insects that are in here – far more than there usually are.”

“You could be right,” said Frank, “it makes sense, an imp insect farm.”

“But I’m not an insect farmer,” growled Neville, “I’m a Devils’ Trumpet farmer and these blasted creatures have almost destroyed my crop. Let’s round up all the imps and banish them to a marsh far away from here where they farm all the insects they want to!” Neville raised his wand ready to cast a simple summoning spell to bring all the imps to him. 

“Just a minute,” said Frank excitedly, “I think we are missing a trick here. If these imps really can hasten the life cycle of a plant, shouldn’t you keep them and use them to bring on plants? You might even be able to grow plants out of season.”

Neville paused, “I’m not certain that it is the imps causing the problem, it could be something else. I’ll need to find that book and see if this is the species of imp it mentioned and I don’t have time to do that right now.”

“Try an experiment,” said Frank. “Round up the imps, put them in a hutch near some immature plants and see if the plants grow more quickly.”

Neville felt the eyes of his family on him and he agreed to his father’s suggestion. There were more imps which were pulled in by the summoning spell, a group of about twenty. Neville and Hannah hastily constructed a hutch to contain the imps and they put it another greenhouse where the plants were growing at a normal rate. “How do you look after imps?” Alice said worriedly.

“I don’t know, I’ll check up on the details later,” said Neville “but for now they’ve got food and water and we need to get on and harvest the rest of the Devil’s Trumpet.”  
The Longbottom family and Hannah worked long into the night before they had picked, preserved and packed the crop. By the time they had finished all they did was go home and collapse, exhausted, into bed.

Frank was the first awake the next day, although much later than he normally awoke. Alice was still asleep beside him and he lay thinking about the previous day. He felt proud of what they achieved and whilst he wouldn’t want to spend every day working as intensively or for as many hours, for the first time in many years he had a sense of worth. He had been needed and was able to be useful. He had also enjoyed the work despite the fact that his muscles ached. The work was entirely unlike the work he had undertaken as an auror. A career he no longer the skills to do and to which he had no desire to return. Horticulture, on the other hand might be something he could do. The methodical and repetitive actions of the harvest had been soothing and at no time had any dark thoughts crept into his head. The idea of considering using the imps in the farming practice may never had occurred to him had he still been an auror and where his focus was on the capture and bringing to justice Dark Wizards and other criminals. Imps weren’t criminals, it was their nature to affect the plants. Years of counselling and therapy had taught him to think in other ways, to focus on the good, and not the bad, of a given situation. 

Frank decided it was time to take control of his future and not be blown about like a leaf on the breeze and he was optimistic that he had found where his future lay, he would work with Neville in the market garden.


	5. Longbottom Lives

Frank broached the subject of helping out more regularly at the greenhouses with Neville the same day. Neville saw an expression of interest and expectation painted clearly on his father’s face, which was an improvement on the impassive face he usually wore when he was mooching around the house, under occupied and bored, and Neville did not have the heart to refuse his request. The healers at St Mungo’s had said that although Frank and Alice were fit enough to be discharged he should not expect them to be completely cured. It was important that circumstances did not arise which might lead to a setback. Neville had spent years waiting for the return of his parents, and he did not want to lose them again, or be the cause of a relapse when he could do something to prevent it.

He smiled at this father, “Of course you can, Dad” he said, “It’s nice that a member of the family is asking. Gran’s never shown much interest. Sometimes I think she is disappointed in my choice of career.”

“My mother can be a hard person to please,” agreed Frank, “but she’ll always stand by family – she helped out yesterday with the Devil’s Trumpet, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” concurred Neville instantly, “you all did. You don’t know how glad I am that I have family I can rely on.”

“I do know,” said Frank seriously, “Your mother and I have relied on our family for years. When I say how much we value the loyalty of you and my mother, I know I speak for Alice as well as myself.”

A third voice entered the conversation. “What are you speaking for me about?” asked Alice who had just come into the room and looked questioningly at Frank.

“How much we have appreciated our family recently,” he repeated.

Alice nodded in agreement. She was carrying a large selection of books and Neville said, “A bit of light reading there Mum?”

Alice held up one of the books saying, “I’m trying to find out more about the imps we found yesterday. This one doesn’t tell me much.” She read out the title. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.”

Frank took the book from her. “This was a standard text when I was at school,” he said.

“And for me,” said Neville. “What do you want to know about imps?” he asked his mother.

“How to look after them,” replied Alice, “if they really do influence the growth of plants, we should take care of them, at least until we are sure if they do or don’t.”

Neville reached out for the books she was holding. She passed them to him and he quickly read the titles and skimmed the contents pages. “None of these cover the care of imps,” he said. “There’s a lot of information about how to get rid of them.”

Alice sighed, “Yes, I’ve noticed that too.”

“I can’t remember where I read the bit about the plant influencing imp,” said Neville in slight frustration. “Perhaps it was at Hogwarts or maybe I’m misremembering. Imps are considered pests by farmers, you know, so there’s no reason why anyone would want to keep them as pets. There’s only one person I know who would think that a dangerous animal could be a pet.” Neville’s eyes lit up, “Of course,” he said excitedly “Hagrid! If anyone has ever tried to keep imps it would be him!”

“Hagrid?” questioned Alice.

“The game keeper at Hogwarts,” Frank explained. “You weren’t at Hogwarts for long, Alice, so might not remember Rubeus Hagrid.”

“Rubeus? Of course I remember Rubeus – he was in the Order of the Phoenix with us. I’d forgotten most people called him Hagrid,” Alice said huffily. “Do you know him from Hogwarts?” she asked Neville.

“Yes,” confirmed Neville, “and he was a teacher for a while on Care of Magical Creatures. 

“I expect he enjoyed that,” said Frank, “I remember we would often go to his cottage to see what ferocious animal he had.”

“He wasn’t really a very good teacher,” said Neville, feeling a little disloyal. “One year we spent the whole time looking after something called skrewts. I’ve never heard of them before or since. Hermione was always convinced he’d cross bred them from something.”

“Does he still work at Hogwarts?” Alice asked Neville.

“No, he got married to a professor from Beauxbatons, Madame Maxime – I’m not sure what they are up to now.” Neville thought for a minute. “I could send him an owl and ask if he knows anything about the care of imps.”

“Yes please,” said Alice. “It’ll take a couple of days before he replies, won’t it? In the meantime I’ll do what I can for the imps. How are they?” she asked Neville, “Did you check on them today?”

“I put in some fresh water and maggots into the hutch,” replied Neville, “but other than that, no – I was busy with my plants.”

Augusta entered the kitchen and she heard the tail end of the conversation. “What are you doing about the imps?” she asked.

“I’m going to look after them,” announced Alice.

“I shall help Neville in the greenhouses,” Frank told her.

“And the fields,” added Neville.

Augusta glanced over at Neville and caught his eye. She knew how much he valued the time he spent working on his own in the greenhouses and fields, it was why she rarely visited or interfered when he was at work. Neville kept eye contact and gave a wry smile and a slight shrug. Augusta’s heart filled with love for her grandson – how considerate and caring he was to put the needs of others above his own. A characteristic he shared with her late husband and which he had amply demonstrated at Hogwarts during Voldemort’s second rising.

If Augusta had known during Neville’s last year at Hogwarts how much physical abuse and punishment he had been taking at the hands of the evil Carrow siblings - the teachers of the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies - she would have removed him from school despite the law that made attendance compulsory. It was only when the Death Eaters had sent that incompetent fool, Dawlish, to try to kidnap her to ensure Neville’s good behaviour that she had learned how bad things were at Hogwarts. After the failed kidnap attempt she had spent a few weeks on the run and in hiding, which was exiting in its own way but played havoc with her back and she had longed for her own bed. When the call came for help at the Battle of Hogwarts Augusta was the first to respond. She had fought alongside the students and teachers who had stayed to defend the school.  
The wizard world owed its survival to that ragtag band of resistance fighters and in no small way to her grandson Neville. Even when Voldemort had thought he had won the day, Neville was the only person with the courage to defy him and refuse to surrender. Voldemort had summoned the Sorting Hat, forced Neville into a body bind, pulled the hat over Neville’s head and set it afire. Augusta had been about to attack Voldemort herself, regardless of the consequences, in order to save her grandson. But Voldemort had been distracted by the arrival of a large army of defenders and had stopped -looking at Neville, but Augusta hadn’t. Neville broke free of the body bind, the hat fell from his head - to Augusta’s relief the fire had not burned him – perhaps the hat was charmed to protect the wearer. Augusta had watched as Neville reached into the hat and pulled out a silver sword with a ruby handle – the sword of Gryffindor! Her grandson was considered worthy enough to wield the sword of Gryffindor – the greatest sword that had ever been forged – an honour given to only a handful of wizards over the ages.

Neville had known why the sword had come to him and what to use it for, she had seen how he had lifted the sword in a graceful arc above his head, he had taken a smooth step towards Voldemort’s giant snake, Nagini, and with one swift stroke and a flash of red on silver from the dawn sun struggling to light up the day, the blade of the sword sliced through the snake’s head like a hot knife through cold butter, and the head of the snake sailed through the air and landed with a soft thud a short distance from Voldemort’s feet. Those who had watched Neville were stunned into silence, Augusta observed Neville defiantly standing by the snake’s body, the ruby handle glowing in his hand and the point of the sword resting on the ground where he had followed through the killing stroke. 

The tableau was broken as Voldemort screamed in anger and threw a killing curse at Neville. Augusta had simultaneously raised her wand to protect her grandson but someone else had been quicker and a strong shield charm was erected between Neville and Voldemort, cast by Harry Potter. Augusta had barely been aware of the final duel between Voldemort and Harry that followed. She rushed over to Neville and led him away from the danger zone. When the duel was over, Augusta had let Neville accept his own accolades and enjoy his moment in the sun.

Now, today, she saw again the selfless young man shine through and she couldn’t have been more proud of him.

A few days later Neville, Frank and Alice were at work in Neville’s small holding. Alice was tending to the imps – the wizards had yet to see evidence that the imps could influence the growth of plants – but she was not ready to give up. She enjoyed having something to look after and have a responsibility for. As the imps didn’t appear to be causing any harm Neville did not try to stop her work with the imps. Frank was pruning and weeding in the same greenhouse as Alice. Neville was working in the field, stripped to his waist in the warm summer sunshine and he worked his way up and down the rows of plants in the field. Jack was dozing in the shade of the hedges along the edge of the field. Neville did not regret agreeing to his parents’ offer of help – he could still enjoy his own space by allocating tasks in different parts of the small holding, although he had noticed that his parents preferred to work near to each other.

Neville heard a sharp cracking sound that heralded the arrival of a visitor by apparation. He paused in his work to see who had arrived. At the top end of the field he was working in he could see that two people had appeared, even at this distance he could tell they were well above average height. He walked briskly along the rows of plants towards the visitors pulling on his T shirt as he went with Jack trotting alongside him. Neville noticed his parents had come out of the greenhouse and go over to the new arrivals and were dwarfed when they stood next to them.

“Hagrid!” Neville shouted when he was within earshot. Neville had got to know Hagrid well during his last year at Hogwarts, while Harry was on the run. Hagrid had never shirked from joining Neville in performing acts of low level insubordination. 

“Neville!” replied Hagrid striding towards him, the two men met and Neville found himself engulfed in a bear hug from the larger man. He briefly returned the hug and stood back to look at Hagrid. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and he no longer had the wild appearance he had when at Hogwarts. He was smiling broadly and his black eyes twinkled under his heavy brow. He was dressed in trousers and a light cotton shirt which suited the warm day.

“You remember Olympe, don’t yer Neville?” Hagrid said proudly indicating the dark haired giant of a woman standing slightly behind him. 

“Of course I do,” replied Neville, holding out his hand, “I am pleased to meet you again, Madame.”

Olympe gripped his hand and gave a firm hand shake. “Ze pleasure is all mine, Neveel,” she replied with a light French accent. “Eet is always an ‘onour to meet ze other ‘eroes of ze Battle of ‘Ogwarts. I am, of course, married to one of zem.”

Hagrid blushed and announced proudly, “Olympe is me wife now.”

“Congratulations,” Neville replied sincerely. Noticing his parents were now a few steps behind Hagrid, he introduced them. “These are my parents, Alice and Frank. Mum and Dad this is Hagrid and Olympe.”

“Alice and Frank Longbottom?” repeated Hagrid. “Yer got out of St Mungo’s then?”

“Rubeus!” Olympe reprimanded him.

“Sorry Olympe,” mumbled Hagrid and Neville observed that Hagrid’s wife influenced more than just his appearance.

Frank and Alice did not appear to be upset by the reference to their past and Frank replied, “Yes and we have no wish to return.”

“Hagrid,” said Neville, “did you get my owl?”

“Yeh, that’s why we’re here,” he said.

“You could have replied by owl, you didn’t have to come in person.” Neville said but Hagrid’s smile started to fade and he added quickly, “Of course I’m delighted to see you but I didn’t want to put you out.”

“Ahh it’s no bother, Neville,” said Hagrid, “Me and Olympe are on our holidays, it’s great to have an excuse to come and see yer.” He looked around, “Now where are these imps you asked me about?”

“They’re in the greenhouse,” Alice told him. Hagrid followed her inside, ducking to get through the doorway. Once inside he could stand upright as long as he didn’t go too close to the walls where the roof was lower. Olympe remained outside so as not to crowd out the greenhouse, Frank kept her company. Neville ordered Jack to stay with Frank (the dog was likely to upset the imps) and he went inside with Alice and Hagrid. The imps were in a timber hutch at the far end of the building, Hagrid walked carefully between the narrow aisles to avoid damaging the plants. There wasn’t enough room for Hagrid to crouch down in front of the hutch so he asked Alice to get one of the imps out and give it to him.”  
Alice opened the hutch door just enough to get her hand in, she made a soft cooing noise and one of the imps sat on her hand.

“I didn’t know you were already training them” Neville said.

“Only this one,” said Alice, “the others are still scared of me.” She gave the imp to Hagrid who handled it with a gentleness that belied the size of his hands.

He lifted it up so that he could see it and slowly turned it around so he could examine it from all angles, finally he gave his verdict, “ye’ve go a rare one here, Neville. This one is a Marsh Blue.”

“It’s not blue,” Alice pointed out.

“Nah – they’re called blues ‘cos yer see ‘em once in a blue moon.” Hagrid said.

“Can they affect the growth of plants?” Neville asked.

“Dunno, mebbee,” said Hagrid. “Imps is just vermin so wizards don’t tek much notice of ‘em, ‘cept to kill ‘em when they’s being troublesome.” Neville shifted uncomfortably as that reminder of his own behaviour. Still carefully holding the imp, Hagrid tried to peer into the hutch. “What yer got in there for them to live in?” he asked Alice.

“Grass, stones and twigs,” she replied.

“Well, that ain’t much good – these imps is marsh creatures, they like warm damp places and it’s far too small.”

“Oh no,” said Alice in dismay. “I was just trying to replicate the conditions outside. I hope I haven’t harmed them!”

“They’ll be a’right for a while,” Hagrid assured her. “Now I’ll make ‘em a proper enclosure.” He gave the imp back to Alice who held it as she watched Hagrid withdraw a wand from his pocket. He thought for a moment before casting a spell at the end wall of the greenhouse. 

Neville looked on in alarm. Hagrid’s wand had been confiscated by the Ministry of Magic when he was still at school. His attempts to do magic since then had not met with success. A stream of blue came out of the end of his wand and spread over the glass panels of the greenhouse wall. The glass softened and stretched outwards as if being formed into a clear bulb by a skilled glass blower. Hagrid moved his wand with finesse and formed a dome shaped protrusion from the end of the greenhouse. Alice observed him calmly, having no reason to be cautious of his skill. Once the glass was shaped to his satisfaction he cast another spell and a door formed at the entrance to the dome. “That’s so as you can git in and out,” he told Alice. “Yer’ll need to keep the door shut, imps can be great at escaping. Next I’ll make a marsh for them to live in.”

“Won’t they try to dig out under the walls?” Alice asked.

“Unlikely,” said Hagrid. “Imps isn’t built fer diggin’ and they don’t use tools. Anyways if yer keep your imps happy they won’t try to escape. Once they’re settled in their new home yer won’t even need to have the door any more. Imps is like bees, you see, if they’re happy with a good food supply they won’t want to leave.” Alice nodded in understanding.

Neville could no longer contain his curiosity about Hagrid’s use of magic. “Hagrid, I thought you weren’t supposed to do magic?”

Hagrid made a dismissive snort, “It was the Ministry of Magic what did that and destroyed my wand. Now Olympe and me is married I’m a French citizen and the Ministere de la Magie says I can do magic. They ain’t worried about half-giants having magic – as long as it’s not dark magic. Not that I’d do dark magic,” he said hastily, “I’ve seen too much o’ that to want to do it meself.” He flourished his wand and said “I’ve got me a new wand see and I’ve been practising. Olympe says I’m showing promise,” he said proudly. “Now let’s get on with making that marsh.”

Hagrid went outside the greenhouse and, using his strength not his magic, brought in several wheel barrow loads of soil which he had dug from the ditches surrounding Neville’s land. He arranged it neatly in the glass dome and watered a section of it. “You needs to keep this area damp – so we’ll set up a set of hose pipes. This part,” he indicated a higher area of land that he had created, “should be kept drier, that’s where they’ll sleep.”

“It’s just soil in there so far,” said Alice, “won’t they need some vegetation?”

“Yup,” Hagrid replied, “we need to put in some marsh plants.”

“After we’ve done that we’ll be able to see if the imps do affect the growth of plants, we can observe if the marsh plants get bigger,” Alice said enthusiastically.

“You got any marsh plants?” Hagrid asked Neville.

“No, but I’ll get some,” Neville replied, unwilling to use his own valuable marsh plants on this crazy experiment which he was only agreeing to because it pleased his mother. He apparated and returned several minutes later with some wild plants that he had dug up from a nearby marsh. Neville set the plants into the soil in the dome and when Alice and Hagrid were satisfied with the results, Alice put the imp she was holding into the dome and transferred the other imps from the hutch into their new home and shut the door. The imps stood together in a tight bunch on the dry mound within the dome. The first imp that Alice had put in appeared to be most adventurous and it moved away from the other imps and slowly started to explore the new surroundings. It circled the dome before returning to the group. The wizards watched as the first imp gestured to its companions and they slowly moved outwards to investigate. A knot of adults remained on the high ground encircling their young imps for protection. Imps could clearly communicate with each other but their communication system was not understood by the wizards any more than muggles could truly communicate with animals.

The three wizards left the greenhouse, giving Frank and Olympe the space to go inside and see the imps in the dome Hagrid had created for them. “That looks good,” commented Frank when they came out.

“Yes, my ‘usband is an expert on ze care of all beasts,” Olympe said smiling at Hagrid, “I am sure ze imps will thrive.”

Neville looked sceptical, he wasn’t too sure he wanted the imps to thrive, especially if they displayed no magical ability. “Would anyone like lunch? It’s a nice day, we’ll eat here, outside,” he suggested, mindful of the size of the two half giants and how cramped Augusta’s house would be if Hagrid and Olympe came inside.

“I’ll go and ask Augusta if she would like to join us,” Alice volunteered, but the real reason was to bring back more food. The lunch already packed for her, Frank and Neville would not be enough to fill the appetites of their guests. Alice and Augusta returned shortly with a large hamper of food and drink. Augusta had been keen to renew her acquaintance with Hagrid, who she hadn’t seen since the Battle of Hogwarts. 

When Neville was working alone he normally ate his lunch sitting on grass but in view of the guests, Augusta and Alice had brought along chairs and tables (easily packed into a small bag using an extension charm) including large strong chairs for Hagrid and Olympe. The spread of food on the table was vast and Neville wondered if they would get through it all. 

The meal and conversation stretched long into the afternoon and Neville gave up any intention of doing any more work that day and enjoyed his unexpected half day’s leave. Inevitably the conversation turned to Hogwarts. Hagrid no longer worked there, having moved to France when he and Olympe married. She was still a teacher at Beauxbatons and Hagrid was employed as an estate manager on an extensive property owned by an eminent and wealthy wizard family in France. 

“I visited Hogwarts last week,” Hagrid told Neville, “just before they finished the summer term.”

“How are the repairs progressing?” enquired Neville who had always had some residual guilt for the damage had helped cause during the Battle of Hogwarts. 

“The Great Hall is fixed,” said Hagrid. “Loads of wizards volunteered to help out after the Battle so the work’s gettin’ along quite quickly.”

“I expected Professor McGonagall’s got it all planned out, now she’s headmistress,” said Neville.

“Yeah, but she’s gonna retire in a couple of years – it won’t be finished by then.” Hagrid told him. “Professor Sprout‘ll be leaving about the same time.”

“Paloma Sprout was the herbology teacher,” Neville explained to his parents, “it was my favourite subject.”

“You was good at it,” Hagrid agreed. “Paloma always said you was the best student she’d ever had and that you were good at explaining and helping out the other students. She said it was like having another teacher in the classroom.”

“Maybe Neveel could do ze ‘erbology teacher’s job when Professeur Sprout retires?” suggested Olympe.

“I’ve never considered becoming a teacher,” said Neville thoughtfully, “anyway I have my market garden to keep me busy.”

Hagrid filled up his goblet with some elderflower cordial that Augusta had made and took a long drink. “We visited Harry and Ginny last week and baby James – he looks a lot like Harry.”

“I haven’t been to see Harry and Ginny for a while,” admitted Neville.

“I expects yer busy Neville,” said Hagrid. “Anyways, when are you going to get married Neville? All your old friends is married – Harry and Ginny, Hermione and Ron, even Draco Malfoy. I’d recommend it – I’ve never been so happy since I met my Olympe.”

“Hannah and I have been talking about getting married,” said Neville defensively.

“WHAT!” exclaimed Frank, Alice and Augusta in unison.

“This is the first we’ve heard about it.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

“No. No.” Neville almost shouted “We’ve decided it’s not a good time.”

“Why ever not?” asked Alice, perplexed.

“You and Dad have only just got out of St Mungo’s. We felt I was needed here,” Neville explained.

Frank and Alice exchanged glances and Frank said gently, “Neville, your mother and I are finding our own way, we have settled down and are used to life outside of St Mungo’s. We have our good days and our bad days, but the bad days are getting fewer and less intense. You have your own life to lead. We don’t expect you or want you to give it up, or delay your plans for our sakes. You are our only child, Neville, we want the best for you. We don’t want to be an encumbrance.”

“That’s not what I meant,” cried Neville in dismay, “You’re not an encumbrance; I just feel responsible for you and your welfare.”

“Neville,” put in Augusta, “I’m here with Frank and Alice - you wouldn’t be abandoning them.”

“And we are not children,” said Alice sharply, “to be protected and sheltered. We have seen the worst that life can throw at us, we have survived and come through it.”

“Against all the odds,” Frank added.

Neville had the impression that his future was something his parents had discussed at length with their ready reply and explanation. He looked from one parent to anther in confusion and indecision.

“Do you love Hannah?” asked Augusta.

“Yes,” admitted Neville, “with all my heart.”

“And does she love you?” queried Frank.

“She says so and I believe her.”

“I believe her too,” said Alice, who had watched younger couple when they were together and it reminded her of when she and Frank were young and in love. “So there is nothing to stop you from getting married if you both wish to. Don’t look for barriers where none exist.”

Neville regarded the anxious and expectant faces surrounding him. Perhaps they were correct. He had felt weighed down with responsibility since his parents had come home, may be it was time to put his own desires first. His face relaxed into a broad grin, “I shall ask her” he declared. “And Hagrid,” he added impulsively, “if she says yes, will you be my best man at our wedding?

“Best man?” asked Hagrid in clarification. Neville nodded. “I’d be honoured,” he said with a voice filled with emotion. “Olympe, me and you is going to a wedding. 

“Neville?” he asked as a thought struck him, “Yer will get married in the school holidays, won’t you? Olympe finds it hard to get time off during term time, and we want to make a holiday out of it, won’t we?”

“Rubeus,” admonished Olympe fondly, “Neveel does not yet know if ‘Annah will marry ‘im and zey must set ze date, not us.”

“Of course she’ll say yes” said Augusta in a tone that brooked no contradiction. “He is my grandson.”

Neville laughed, “If Hannah does agree to marry me, I will be sure we are married during the school holidays – it wouldn’t be much of a wedding without my best man would it?”

“The stag party!” Hagrid said, “I’ll ‘ave to organise a stag party. I’ve got a great idea already!”

“Rubeus,” warned Olympe, “You won’t do anyzing dangereux will you? Ze bridegroom must be in one piece for ze wedding day?”

“Ahh Olympe, what could possibly go wrong?” Hagrid said with innocent confidence.

\--oOo—

One year later, Hagrid thought Olympe had worried unnecessarily; nothing did go wrong at the Magical Beasts Encounter stag party. Unless you counted Dean falling a hundred feet from the back of the dragon he was riding. Although that was his own fault for drinking so much before took off. (How was Hagrid supposed to know Dean was afraid of heights?) Anyway Seamus had caught him a cushioning spell before he hit the ground so no damage was done and the dragon was unharmed.

Perhaps Hagrid shouldn’t have insisted that Ron join them in the giant spider room, but those spiders were tiny by comparison with Aragog who Ron had visited in his lair and come away on speaking terms. 

Neville’s friends from Young Wizard Farmers must have led a sheltered life if they’d never seen firecrabs before and then tried to herd them into a corner of the pen as if they were sheep. The firecrabs were only acting in self-defence when they shot flames from their rear ends. Only one of the Young Farmers got singed, and that was treated by the Healer who was on hand during the encounter.

As for Hannah’s brother - surely he must have known better than to approach an occamy which had laid a clutch of eggs, no matter how beautiful the eggs were to look at? Any mother would protect her young, luckily the occamy - a winged and feathered serpent-like creature – had not wanted to stray too far from her eggs. Hannah’s brother could run surprisingly quickly.

Hagrid had noticed that Neville and Harry were engrossed in animated conversation most of the time and seemed to be encouraging their friends to participate, but there was a lot of shouting and gesticulation involved.

In any event, the meal at the end of the Magical Beasts Encounter was certainly a success. The stag party men had almost managed to out-drink Hagrid!

Neville’s wedding day was by contrast, calm and serene. Hagrid redeemed himself with Neville by arranging for Hannah to arrive at the ceremony on the back of a silver unicorn. The sight of his beautiful bride, riding proudly and confidently upon one of the most iconic magical creatures with an expression of sheer joy on her face was a vision that stayed with Neville for many years to come. 

After they were married, Neville and Hannah lived at the Leaky Cauldron where Hannah had recently got the job as landlady. The Leaky Cauldron was a pub which was the gateway between the muggle world in Charing Cross Road, London and Diagon Alley in the wizard world. The previous landlord, Tom, had been in charge for decades and the interior of the pub had hardly changed during his tenure. The main bar was dark and shabby, the bedrooms were old fashioned but comfortable and the parlours were underused. Hannah had grand plans to modernise the place and make a good living from it. Neville supported his wife in her venture and during the first couple of years of married life he found he was spending more time at the Leaky Cauldron and less time at the greenhouses but he was confident leaving his horticultural business in the hands of his parents.  
One of Hannah’s side lines at the Leaky Cauldron was hiring out the parlours for conferences and meetings. Neville thought he had left the classroom far behind him when he graduated from Hogwarts but he signed himself up for a course on how to teach with the intention of giving lessons about the care of plants. He had enjoyed instructing his parents and found a new interest in teaching. He wanted to see if he could also pass on his knowledge to others and he discovered that he could. He enjoyed the interaction with the students and the sense of purpose and fulfilment that came with helping someone to know and understand something they hadn’t known before. When Professor Sprout retired from Hogwarts Neville became herbology teacher at his old school. Thanks to the instantaneous method of commuting by way of apparition or the floo network Neville was able to work at Hogwarts and go home to Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron.

Frank and Alice had risen to the challenge of farming a small holding and to Neville’s mild surprise they excelled at growing crops. The Marsh Blue imps did influence the growth of plants but it was limited to a restricted range. Frank had come with the idea of creating a set of barricades so that the imps were confined to the section of plants that Frank wanted bringing on. Over the next few years the Marsh Blue imps thrived under Alice’s care. She had insisted that an escape route was always available to the imps so that they could leave if they wanted to. As the colony grew the exit route was used on many occasions when several of the imps left to find mates or to establish new colonies.

The Longbottom’s plants became sought after for their quality and early arrival but it wasn’t long before their secret was out and Marsh Blue imps were no longer a rare species but a fixture in most wizard greenhouses. Alice became an authority on the breeding and care of the Marsh Blue and she thrived on the challenge and status it gave her within the wizard farming community.

Frank had never been particularly interested in plants when he was an auror but the years of inactivity and blankness followed by a gradual recovery had given him a different perspective on life and he was accepting of the slow pace of farming compared to the intricate case solving and sudden arrests that an auror might do. His request to help Neville in his horticultural business had stemmed from boredom but it wasn’t long before he could appreciate the satisfaction of bringing plants to life, watching their first green shoots emerge from the brown soil, seeing them grow to maturity, battling the pests and preventing diseases that may afflict the plants. He enjoyed the harvest of the grown crops and the negotiations with the buyers to achieve the best price. His auror training had come in useful in sales negotiation, using the methods he had learned as an auror to elicit information and judge by a person’s body language how the conversation was progressing. His slight skill at legillmency gave him an edge over most purchasers and word soon go around that it was pointless to try to underpay a Longbottom.

The farmer’s life was a long way from being an auror. Did Frank regret his lost years that the career choice of auror had cost him? Of course he did but he had survived, Alice had survived, their family was reunited and extended now that Hannah had joined them. Frank and Alice looked forward to the day when they would become grandparents but there was no hurry. For now every day was a gift and gratefully received.

As for Augusta, she no longer feared spending the last few years of her life rattling around in an empty house full of sadness and memories, without even the company of Jack, who had gone with Neville to the Leaky Cauldron and was a firm favourite with the regulars at the pub. Frank and Alice were content to live with her and she gave them the space they needed. Neville and Hannah were frequent visitors and kept in regular contact. 

The Longbottom lives which were forged by bravery, endurance and affection were joined together in bonds never to be broken - five lives, one family, one love.

THE END


End file.
